Lieutenants
by Sethos
Summary: Two original characters on DS9 in the second season: one Vulcan, on Human, some problems... Warning: Slash! (only I'm not slashing established characters, merely borrowing the world for my OCs). Written in 1995, so some things are outdated...
1. Chapter 1

Only the adversaries remained to make life interesting. Only the next unknown enemy justified submitting himself time and again to the humiliation of the drugs, of those old primitive substances that kept him alife when the cycles demanded their due. No other reason could compete; loyalty, friendship, or belonging were not for him, least of all love. His adversary was the unknown, the strange, which meant danger when not understood, and which became an ally to him by understanding, further and further out. All existings models of the universe agreed that it was infinite in its space-time expansion; and many signs suggested that an infinite number of parallel universes existed in the mysterious dimensions of reality and probability; there was no threat of running out of work during the ridiculously short time that he would exist in the multiverse. For the meagre two hundred and fifty years that supposedly remained of his Vulcan life expectancy he would have enough to do, so that he did not have to waste a moment's thought on his own insignificant self.  
  
Humans thinking themselves his friends sometimes tried to win his increased attention by suggesting to him that the Academy at ShiKahr would not be able to ignore his work indefinitely, that they would have to accept his continued existence one day if they didn't want to hopelessly fall behind scientifically. Useless to explain to these well-meaning creatures how the honourable Vulcan scientist would be perfectly prepared to quote from his students' papers while completely ignoring the fact that one Suvuk, whose name had been removed from all Vulcan data banks, had singlehandedly laid the foundations for the scientific discipline which by now had been given the name "exology". He did not exist for Vulcan, and Vulcan did not exist for him. How astonished those pathetic humans always were when he did not show any reaction to their efforts, no satisfaction, but simply got up and went away.  
  
He was thought to be unsurpassably cold and controlled; humans and all the other short-lived creatures wondering how typically Vulcan this alleged renegate was could never fathom what hell he had to go through every seven years, when, drugged by the most fearsome substances of the ignominous human history, he would lie in his quarters for days, unable to think or speak or even move, until the bout of pon farr was over; and again, after a few weeks, then months, until biology gave up, and he would be left alone for the next seven years or so.  
  
It was inappropriate to think of pon farr now; it was illogical to worry about something unavoidable that simply would have to be borne. It was irrational to consider it a degradation, or a defeat. There was no way but mastering the unavoidable. He knew the reason why these thoughts had come up just now; with practised discipline he faced his unsuitable wishes straight on, and then sent them to the depths where they belonged.  
  
Beside him in the hallway a short, pudgy human emerged from a classroom and waddled beside him for some steps; Suvuk focussed his attention long enough to recognise a professor of exolinguistics working with him on one of his numerous projects. Having received the answer he wanted, the human vanished happily into the opposite direction.  
  
Suvuk was considered to be polite; but his politenes, he had heard people say, was as cold as empty space. All these absurd humans kept trying to thaw him out without having the slightest inkling of the fire raging inside that needed to be controlled, controlled incessantly, to prevent an eruption of his insufferable personality. They projected their undisciplined emotions onto him without ever so much as guessing who he really was, what a monstrosity his mere existence was, and why he was exiled. How they all would triumph if they could see through him for one moment, if they could pull him down to their level to say: There's nothing wrong with it; it's only natural; no reason to be ashemed; we're all human after all. That was the crux. He was not. He was Vulcan born and bred, an absurdity to the Way of the Vulcan, and his life an open rebellion against all traditions of his people.  
  
Enough. Illogical to think about it.  
  
Why had this exolinguist gone on about the Klingon language? Klingons were by no means new to federation research, and quoting Klingon paradigms was considered extremely conventional. In former times Terran linguists had always quoted Native American languages if they were at loss for an example, or Finnish, without ever having spoken a single word of these languages. Finnish was still an interesting language, of course; more interesting than Klingon in any case. Suvuk tought a Finnish technician in his introductory course for non-exologists; the man specialised in the technology of alien cultures; interesting idea. Suvuk was the only person among the Starfleet Academy faculty able to even pronounce the Finn's name. When he said "Lieutenant Äänekoski", some of his English speaking students started to giggle about the nasal tone of the double ä. Suvuk spoke adequate Finnish, just as he spoke adequate Russian, Lakota, Japanese, Quetchua, French, Welsh and several other Terran languages. That was merely a hobby; he was expected to sometimes take breaks in his work, and he needed something to do when he did. He learned a new Terran language every few months as well as numerous languages from the explored parts of the galaxy, the knowledge of which was important to his work. Once, the Finn had accidentally bumped into him in a passageway and absentmindedly murmured "Anteeksi"; he had stopped dead in his tracks with astonishment when his Vulcan teacher had matter-of-factly answered "Ei se mitään" and gone on. Suvuk had been rather harsh with himself about the satisfaction that moment gave him. That was cheap. Admittedly, Lieutenant Jukka-Pekka Äänekoski was rather a challenge to him, and, unadmittedly, quite fun to be with; among all the non-exologist students that came to his classes he was the one to least passively take in everything, the one to give the most intelligent arguments and discussions. To his human teachers this behaviour appeared refractory: the Finn contradicted and questioned everything. Suvuk was not forcedby duty to teach those classes; to him, his non-scientific students were an excellent test area. Many new ideas had come from the innocent questions of some young technician or communications officer whom he was meant to divest of their prejudices before Starfleet turned them loose on the population of the universe. Most of them were brilliant, many enjoyed discussions; but Äänekoski was by far the best. He never turned personal or agressive; he calmly dissected Suvuk's theories until he understood them, to an enormous profit to all the other students. What he had gotten Äänekoski to accept even a drunken Ferengi would have understood. To every outsider, including Äänekoski, it must seem obvious that teacher and student couldn't stand each other.  
  
Enough. Suvuk touched his com badge. "Nakamura-san?" The short fat Japanese professor answered. "Hai! Sensei!" Suvuk explained to him briefly how a paradigm from the Ancient Cardassian, or perhaps from the Karsid, would be much more appropriate within the present course of research than the Klingon one suggested by the professor, and signed off after listening to an appropriate portion of his Japanese thankfulness. He turned a corner. An amorphous mass of most diverse students was waiting in front of the locked classroom. He heard hurried steps behind him; someone came around the corner, running, and bumped against him. "Anteeksi", the newcomer said, quite matter of course now. "Teillä ei ole mitään kiirettä, Luutnantti; te ette voi mennä luentosaliin ilman minua. Teidän juostamisenne on siis epäloogista", the Vulcan admonished him.  
  
"Of course; you have the access card. After you, Lieutenant", Jukka-Pekka Äänekoski conceded. He fell back a few steps and sauntered behind the Vulcan into the classroom.  
  
He would never have dreamed of walking beside Suvuk, although he sometimes couldn't supress the hint that they both had the same military rank. He respected the difference in Suvuk, not the fact that he was faculty. Looking for human parallels, Suvuk himself had tought him, only made your work harder; an impartial judgement was the most basic tool in dealing with alien species. It was inappropriate to try and curry favours with the Vulcan, to pull him down to human standards. Suvuk could be neither friend nor foe, just somebody from whom and with whom he could learn. He had to keep reminding himself, but it had worked out quite well until now.  
  
Yesterday evening, he ruminated while taking his seat in the second row, his opinion hadn't been that clear, though. One day that icy Vulcan would drive him to a frustrated temper tantrum. After having drunk two Klingon exchange students under the table, Äänekoski had sat at the bar for a long while, brooding. During the two and a half years he had enjoyed Suvuk's classes, the Vulcan had grown from a fascinating irritation to a secret problem. In an few months, when he finished his studies and was sent to a remote outpost as xenotechnician to repair everything alien that might turn up, he could simply forget about Suvuk; but until then, he needed to restrain himself.  
  
It was the challenge itself that attracted him to Suvuk so much, the study of his alien-ness, the combination of Vulcan traditions and uniquely Suvukian traits. Of course he knew that Vulcans rarely made friends and that the affection of one of them was a special privilege, but Suvuk was extreme. Everyone trying to get closer he sent politely, almost imperceptibly, on their way. Cold as ice he repelled all friendliness, all attempts to include him, all traces of humour. Suvuk was like Lapland in winter: metres of snow, freezing cold covering all life, and above it glittered fascinatingly the unreachable aurora borealis. Not to react to this challenge as any ordinary human would was almost too much for Äänekoski's self control. And in his case, things were a bit different.  
  
To him, Suvuk, with the mental challenge he constituted, and with his alien, serious, pointy-eared beauty, was indescribably attractive. When he just stood there as he did now, calmly drawing his diagrams on the display screen, then turning with catlike grace and the flawless poise so typical for Vulcans to draw his students into an discussion with a slight lift of his eyebrow, Äänekoski could have fallen in love with him on the spot. Of course he knew that such a reaction was most inappropriate; he could just as well try and catch a Klingon sabre-toothed dog with a butterfly net. But it was hard.  
  
He knew that all Vulcans were incurably heterosexual. Every male Vulcan had to be married, or would die of pon farr. There was a drug by now that would neutralise that state, but Vulcans despised it, used it only in emergency situations when their cycle caught up with them in deep space, but then went home and mated. Every male Vulcan apart from Suvuk. Suvuk had not been back to his home planet for several decades and had lost Vulcan citizenship. There were wild rumours about the reason for this, all of them much less than credible. The only certain fact that could be known was that Suvuk would immediately and rigourously repel any pass made at him, no matter by what gender or species. Enough people had tried. Äänekoski did not plan to follow in their inglorious footstep, to make an undying fool out of himself, and to wantonly lose the cool, logical respect Suvuk seemed to display towards him.  
  
Only a few more months, and it would be over. And yet, if he stood there like that....  
  
"Lieutenant, did the Koskenkorva finally ruin your brain?", Suvuk now enquired with calm irony. "I asked you a question".  
  
"No, it was Salmiakkikossu, to be precise. The theory you were referring to was developed by Daystrom himself and must be considered outdated. Since studying Cardassian computer configurations, at the latest, we have begun...."  
  
And while rushing headlong into the discussion as he usually did, a small part at the hind section of his consciousness reported to him that he would miss Suvuk, despite the relief he would feel. This was worth all of it, supressing his feelings, suffering all those glorified belly cramps. He could always get thoroughly drunk from time to time, and have good cry in his quarters afterwards. That trick Suvuk had of presenting a commonplace conjecture for his students to attack in order to further their mental impartiality he had fathomed already during the first term. But why was this superior intellect that pathologically averse to any sort of affection?  
  
In that precise moment, in a far corner of the universe, a Bajoran first officer talked with her Human commander about a message from Starfleeet Headquarters, Earth.  
  
"O'Brien gets the technician he asked for, it says. If there's another person to see to damaged ships coming in from the Gamma quadrant, O'Brien might finally find the time to get all the replicators up and running. But, on the other hand, they plan on letting some sort of Vulcan top scientist come here, whom we have to 'give all available assistance in his research'. It says he is looking for the legendary species of - space going whales, of all things, thought to come from somewhere between the Gamma and the Delta quadrant. If that Federation highbrow thinks he could park himself on our station without doing anything useful for everybody, he will soon find out how wrong he is!"  
  
"Calm yourself, Kira", Benjamin Sisko replied quietly. "You can't know how cooperative that Vulcan will be. I hope he will think it illogical to sit and look for whales while the station is falling down around us". 


	2. Chapter 2

Suvuk stood alone on the stone quay at the utmost end of San Francisco bay and waited for his friends, the only friends he had found on Earth. Some days ago he had set a howler out here, asking WhiteEye and his companions to meet him here this evening; and from the howler's sensors he had got the answer they would be there. The manual unit that was part of the howler now announced the calls of the fast approaching group. He quickly typed his own greetings into the unit and then jumped into the miniature hovercraft beside the quay, deactivated the weak tractor beam used for mooring the craft, and went off into the direction the sensors indicated. Ahead, powerful tailfins flopped through the water. He typed another greeting into the manual unit, and the small school of humpbacked whales clustered around his tiny boat. He quickly moored it to the bottom of the sea with the tractor beam, stripped off his coveralls, took a deep breath, and jumped into the sea, mother naked. He even left the manual unit; he didn't need it to communicate with WhiteEye and the others.  
  
WhiteEye joined him at once. Slight and pale, Suvuk swam closely beside the huge, grey whale. With one hand he held on to the strange creature, with the other he touched its face, just behind the eye. The mental contact they were both long accustomed to came at once.  
  
-This is my farewell. I am leaving these oceans to search beyond the surface and beyond the surface of the surface for the strangers that are like you.  
  
- We sang a long time ago with their emissary, and a short time ago, when our forefather and our foremother returned to these oceans through the incomprehensible void. If you find them, tell them we would be gladdened if we were allowed to sing with them again.  
  
The whale surfaced for a moment to allow Suvuk to breathe.  
  
- Your shells carry you far; they carry you through the oceans although you belong to the world beyond the surface; and they carry you through the oceans of the incomprehensible void, beyond the surface of the surface. We do not need any shells; we stay where we are meant to be.  
  
- And yet the strangers that are like you have built themselves shells that allowed them to swim the oceans of the incomprehensible void so they could come here and sing with you. They have come from far away, from further away than our shells can carry us.  
  
- No ocean is to wide for the whales; we come and go as we please in the oceans of this world. After the strangers that are like us found shells that allowed them to swim the oceans of the incomprehensible void, no ocean will have been to wide for them.  
  
Again the whale surfaced.  
  
- If I find them in the oceans of the incomprehensible void I will sing your greetings to them, and I will ask them to return to you.  
  
- That will make us happy; but do not swim too far through those oceans, return to us before the never-ending waters devour you. You are so weak and fragile, you creatures of the surface and the ground beyond the surface; you will die if you swim without shells.  
  
-I know the oceans of the incomprehensible void, and I know the shells that can carry me; do not worry.  
  
Once more, the whale surfaced.  
  
- You are strong among the weak; you come from far away where there are no oceans; and yet you are the only one that dares to swim with us whales in our oceans without shells, and the only one that can speak with us without shells. We admire your courage and your abilities, weak, strong creature of the surface, and we do not want to lose you.  
  
- I am honoured by your friendship; and if I meet the strangers that are like you beyond the incomprehensible void, I will let them know that I am your friend.  
  
-Swim far and strong, Suvuk; may your fins and the fins of your shells carry you where you wish to be.  
  
-Swim far, WhiteEye; may your fins carry you safely through all the oceans until we meet again.  
  
For a last time, the whale surfaced, directly beside the boat. Suvuk let go, gripped the low side of the boat, and pulled himself up. Using the manual unit, he made the howler whistle a last farewell greeting to the school of whales; then he watched the tailfins break through the surface for a last time as they dived to lose themselves again in the wide Terran oceans.  
  
Naked, Suvuk stood in the boat's bow and looked into the direction the whales had vanished to. The wind blew cold around his wet body, through his wet hair, but he hardly felt it. The respect the whales gave him for daring to cross into their world without any equipment more than justified the small inconvenience.  
  
He sat on the boat's side. At first, many years ago, he had swum with WhiteEye using a diving suit and oxygen tank, only his hands bare to enable him to mind-meld with the whales. WhiteEye was still a young whale then, living under the auspices of the New Cetacean Institute in an enclosed area between the Great Barrier Reef and Australia itself.  
  
Then, Suvuk had become fully conscious to his unique possibilities for the first time, and his fascination for anything alien had grown into a calling. The misconceptions prevailing between Humans and whales were so absurd they almost could make a Vulcan laugh; and only a Vulcan was able to understand both sides.  
  
Both sides were convinced that the other was so weak it urgently need help. Although basic communication had been possible for quite some while, Suvuk had been the first to discuss the whales' thoughts, philosophy, their view of the world, with them.  
  
Basically, the crux of all those misconceptions was the thing about the shells; that is, the almost unbridgeable discrepancies between material and non-material culture. It was obvious to the whales that the weak, small humans who would die in the oceans without their shells needed protection; the ethics of the powerful, wise creatures would not allow them to use their strength against such weak beings. The small whales, such as dolphins, had often sought contact with individual humans, carried the survivors of shipwrecks to the shore and sometimes organised meetings at the edge of their worlds to try and communicate with the creatures of the surface; the great whales, well knowing the fear they instilled into the tiny beings, had watched the humans and their doings on a more general level, although there had also been desperate acts of mass suicide to alert the humans to the damage they did to the oceans with their shells. And yet all whales had in the end rather died than departing in the slightest from their ethical principles. Such a commitment must win undivided respect from a Vulcan.  
  
To humans, on the other hand, their shells constituted a multitude of differentiated implements; and because of their possessions and their destructive powers they thought themselves so limitlessly superior to the whales that they believed they needed to care for them as for a garden in the desert after almost having annihilated them. How hard it was for humans to realise that creation wasn't just the opposite of destruction; how hard they had to work in order to understand that life was irretrievably unique.  
  
When Suvuk had jumped into the water with the whales for the first time, he had found the final justification for his survival despite all tradition.  
  
Illogical to ponder the past and get cold. From that encounter a commitment for the future had developed, and to fulfil that he would soon have to leave.  
  
Suvuk dried with a rough towel and dressed once more in his coveralls. He disengaged the tractor beam and returned to the quay to retrieve the howler; then he went back to Starfleet Academy by water.  
  
The culture of the whales as he knew it would not by any logical conclusion justify the possession of "shells that swam in space"; even the discovery of the abandoned homeworld of the spacegoing whales, destroyed by a somewhat Borg-like species, had not satisfactorily explained those inventions, which remained a fascinating mystery. One of his students had claimed in a paper that the whales might have adapted the space travel technology of some other species, as their way of thinking would not allow for independent invention; but Suvuk was not sure about that, although he had judged the work of that student quite favourably. He had been a Polynesian, a gentle, cheerful man from Tahiti - but he would not think about that now.  
  
No; the whales understood the principle of a shell from observing the lesser inhabitants of their oceans, and furthermore their imagination worked by nature in three-dimensional space. Once the first whale had made the first step in using tools, if not with the body, then by telepathy, their mental powers had carried them not onto dry land, but straight into the air, which was no more than too-thin water to them; and from there it was a short way into space, and then into hyperspace; and sometime during that development the whales obviously had found the principles of zero acceleration transportation. Nothing else could explain why the historical whale probe that had forced short-sighted humanity a little less than a century ago to save the humpbacked whales had apparently materialised from thin nothingness.  
  
And that was the reason why the Federation was willing to pay for Suvuk's endlessly expensive research. For quite some time, there had been experiments with zero acceleration transportation, most notably by the Hamalki. This cross-roads of philosophy and mechanics seemed to constitute the next inevitable step in the development of thinking life; there must exist the possibility of a contraption which would convince the universe in logical terms for a short time that it didn't exist, so that a spaceship would be able to reappear at any given point when the universe finally claimed it existed after all; but all tries by all known civilisation so far had either fallen completely flat, or had entailed unbearable side effects.  
  
And yet there were recurrent indications that the possibility of zero acceleration transportation did indeed exist. For example, the inhabitants of the Q continuum obviously possessed such powers; but if ever one of them would descend into the dimensional limitations the humans lived in, it invariably turned out to be an irresponsible person that merely wanted to play, and that unnerved everybody present.  
  
Suvuk was probably the only citizen of the whole Federation who would have positively welcomed a chance to meet the particular Q that had driven Starfleet to temper tantrums during the last few years; he was astonished about the apparent lack of patience in those humans that saw themselves completely unable to adequately establish communications with such a unique being. They gave vent to their emotions, suffered terrifying fits of rage, and were only happy after the alien creature had gone on its way. Unfortunately no sensible Q wanted anything to do with humanoids; that one, described as "mad, bad and dangerous to know", was obviously unable to establish any sensible co-operation.  
  
The most recent reports of his appearance placed him at exactly where Suvuk had himself got transferred to; and as he had before now always returned to the same humans to bother them some more, Suvuk thought it quite possible that he would meet the creature there.  
  
But in connection with zero acceleration transportation, the whales offered by far the better perspective. According to all known evidence, they operated on the basis of a similar dimensional perception as the established spacefaring civilisations; their ideas were in any case considerably easier to comprehend then arcane operations in mindwrangling continua.  
  
And although the zero acceleration drive was part of the justification for the Federation to foot the bill for Suvuk's modest lifestyle and his cost intensive research, to him it remained somewhat of a pretext. No, he simply wanted to go further and further out, to where no-one had gone before, and understand those no-one had spoken to before.  
  
At this moment, Suvuk reached the deep subterranean boathouse belonging to the Academy. He left his boat with the harbour personnel and hurried to the turbolift, tucking the howler under his arm. Precisely oh point two hours remained until he was to begin his class.  
  
He put the howler onto a chest of drawers in his quarters to put it away later on, took off the coveralls and turned on the shower when the intercom chimed. Dripping wet, he answered it. "No visual connection, please".  
  
It was one of the female students from his course for non-exologists. "Lieutenant Suvuk, I merely wanted to ask whether class today takes place as scheduled".  
  
"Of course. If I were otherwise engaged I would have hung up a notice".  
  
"We only thought now the exams are over..."  
  
"I do not teach you with a view to the examinations, but to what may be in store for you in your active service, which everything but over".  
  
"This is an old commonplace from Earth", another voice now came in. "Non scholam sed vitam discimus, that means...."  
  
"Thank you; I learned Latin already during my youth on Vulcan; it is still a basic language for the understanding of all human culture. I am informed. If you plan not to appear to my class for some reason, you should be able to make that decision without procuring my permission first".  
  
A third voice chimed in. Apparently, the students were clustering around the vidphone in a whole drove.  
  
"We didn't want to not appear completely, it's only that all the other instructors normally meet for the last session in a more informal setting".  
  
"The other instructors are mostly human. You can drink your coffee when my class is over".  
  
Suvuk had dried off and dressed by now, and added unidirectional visual while grooming himself to his usual flawlessness.  
  
The students were assembled in a group around a public terminal in the main lobby. In the background a representative cross-section of the diversity within the Federation was hurrying to and fro.  
  
One of the female students stopped a passer-by. "JP, you explain to Lieutenant Suvuk why we want to drink coffee with him; you're usually quite good at discussions with him".  
  
"Are you crazy", Äänekoski's voice came from the background. "I have a class to attend. If you care to come with me I can explain to you on the way why it is inappropriate to want to drink coffee with a Vulcan; I am already late as it is".  
  
"As always", Suvuk cut in over the vidphone. "But there is no hurry, Lieutenant. Owing to this little negotiation I have been held up myself, which will make me arrive roughly oh point oh five hours late at the classroom".  
  
Äänekoski was a bit spooked, approached the terminal, saw nothing, and turned away again. Suvuk, ready to go, switched over to bi-directional visual. "Lieutenant?"  
  
"Lieutenant, I am sorry. Apparently, my colleagues have misinterpreted the situation. We do not in any way want to importune on you".  
  
"Fawning creep", another student hissed from the side. "You don't usually crawl for him like that".  
  
"Only when dealing with factual matters. You seem not to have understood anything".  
  
"Don't be so damn snobbish, JP; only yesterday you...."  
  
"I'm not snobbish, only realistic. Even you wouldn't....."  
  
"Olkaa hiljaa, luutnantti", Suvuk cut in again. "He eivät voi ymmärtää; he ovat vai tavallisia ihmisiä. Mutta paljon kiitoksia avustanne, vaikka minä en tarvitse sitä".  
  
"Anteeksi, mä oon vaan vihanen että ne hermostuttivat teidät niin kauheesti. Tä'ä on niin sopimatonta".  
  
"Niin. Teidät vihannekin on samalaiseksi sopimaton ja epälooginen. Mutta en halua kiistella kanssanne puhelimessa. Kuin ehdottomasti tarvitsette kahvia, voitte saada sitä replikaatorista. Näkemiin".  
  
Suvuk switched off his terminal and went on his way.  
  
Translation!  
  
- Calm down, Lieutenant; they can't understand. They are just ordinary humans. However, thank you for your help, although I don't need it.  
  
- Sorry, I'm just mad 'cause they bugged you so terribly. That's so inappropriate.  
  
- Indeed. Your anger is inappropriate and illogical as well. But I don't want to argue with you on the telephone. I expect you at the classroom in five minutes' time. If you absolutely need coffee, you can get it from the replicator. Goodbye.  
  
Äänekoski felt profoundly ashamed. He hadn't wanted any coffee in the first place, and now it seemed as if Suvuk had made the concession to do him a favour. Despite the fact that he thought the whole idea rather whacky from the start; these moronic creatures had sat in Suvuk's classes every week for almost three years and still tried to anthropomorphise the Vulcan. And the worst thing was the way they had tried to submit him to the group pressure just now to make him appear as one of them in front of Suvuk.  
  
"Why did you do that", the female student who had stopped him in the beginning now tried to needle him. She was a blond Californian and belonged to the HQ staff; sometimes Äänekoski suspected she had joined Starfleet only because she lived close by. "Why do you have to suck up to him now he can't give you a better grade any more? Before the exams you quarrelled with him all the time. If you try to be oh-so-Vulcan you should realise that it's illogical".  
  
"Do you know what integrity means, Carol?" he answered. "Obviously not".  
  
"Now get off it, JP", another student interrupted now. "Why did you have to squawk in that weird gibberish? That wasn't Vulcan".  
  
"It was Finnish", Äänekoski answered curtly, turning to go.  
  
"Before I forget: Suvuk said if you absolutely need to have coffee, you can bring some from the replicator".  
  
"What you, of course, will not do", Carol mocked.  
  
"Exactly", he answered, sprinting off.  
  
Those embarrassing creatures. How in the universe did they ever get to join Starfleet? Of course Starfleet set other standards for its personnel than he set for himself. Certainly they all did their jobs with unparalleled efficiency; but anything alien was to them only a disturbance one needed to take a course against.  
  
He knew that he sometimes appeared as arrogant as any Vulcan, and with less justification; but everything alien, especially alien machines, filled him with endless fascination, so he approached it with suitable respect.  
  
His parents owned a small gadget to co-ordinate the household with; it was a miniature computer, a sort of cross between a notice pad and a tricorder. Those things were manufactured on Vulcan and rarely seen on Earth. It had been a wedding present from a relative who had bee in the merchant navy for a few years. When JP was twelve, the cat had thrown the device off the kitchen table. After that, it worked unreliably at best, thus causing exactly the sort of domestic disputes on banalities it was meant to prevent. Jukka-Pekka's father had taken it apart and then sat for awhile in front of his workbench, staring at the alien electronics components without a clue. Finally, he dumped them into the wastebasket, from where JP had fished them out again. In his room, he brooded over the broken pieces for an eternity, poking and experimenting, until he found out what was what, and how it worked. Finally, he discovered the original damage, rebuilt that component, and assembled everything once more. At Christmas, when he last had visited his parents, the Vulcan household computer was still working flawlessly.-  
  
By now, Jukka-Pekka knew the reason he was able to do that had not been any special ingenuity, but simply the fact that he approached the device without any preconceptions, while his father, used as he was to the principles of Terran electronics, had found himself unable to make head or tail of the alien components. Lieutenant Äänekoski knew full well that his work depended on his acceptance of the strange at least as much as on his technical knowledge. To sit in the furthest corner of the explored galaxy brooding over alien machines until he found out how they worked and then got them to work again seemed to him an extremely desirable job.  
  
His secret dream was that one day some alien would come by with a broken ZA drive, which he then could repair and understand. The invention of the zero acceleration drive was an old dream of all Federation technicians. Äänekoski saw no realistic chance for himself to invent that miraculous machine - he would be content if he ever got to repair and then copy such a drive.  
  
By now, he was jogging down the hallway on which the classroom was located. Of his comrades, none appeared to have turned up, but the door was open. With his usual respect towards Suvuk he took his post beside the door to wait for the others. No reason to force himself onto Suvuk even more than he had already been forced to do.  
  
But Suvuk with his sensitive Vulcan hearing had obviously noticed him already. He appeared in the doorway and said ironically, "As you can doubtlessly perceive, the classroom is already open. No logical reason is keeping from entering".  
  
Äänekoski followed the Vulcan into the room and sat down on his usual seat in the second row. He put his recording device down and switched it on, tying to elicit as little attention as possible. For the first time ever, he was alone with the much-admired Vulcan, and he was worried that this fact threatened to fill him with joy. He would not now, at the last chance ever, fall in love with Suvuk after all.  
  
The Vulcan, however, approached Äänekoski's seat on his own accord and stood before him, arms folded behind his back.  
  
"I see you didn't bring any coffee, Lieutenant".  
  
He had to rub it in. "I wish to disassociate myself from my comrades' behaviour", he declared as neutrally as possible; still, he couldn't keep a note of embarrassment from creeping into his voice.  
  
Suvuk lowered the corners of his mouth somewhat disdainfully; an expression that, for Vulcans, seemed to replace a smile in some situations. "The human emotion of embarrassment, although quite natural for you, is nevertheless inappropriate to this situation. I fully realise that you were not in any way involved in that trite argument".  
  
"I'm still sorry to have been pulled in", Äänekoski rejoined stubbornly.  
  
"You inordinately insist on your negative emotions; a behaviour I often observed in humans. However, I cannot but ask myself why you take such a banality that seriously.  
  
By now, Jukka-Pekka was sorry to have apologised. A counter-attack seemed the only way out. "I know, on Vulcan you have small computers that deal with banalities for you, but we humans seem to be incurably attracted to them".  
  
Luckily Suvuk chose an answer that took them away from the tiresome issue at last. "How did you hear about Vulcan logistics boards? That matter is hardly of any concern for a Starfleet technician".  
  
"We used to have one at home", Äänekoski replied, to his own surprise. "When I was twelve I repaired it after my father had given up on it. That was the beginning of my career as exotechnician".  
  
"Fascinating", Suvuk rejoined, lifting an eyebrow. He was silent for a moment, and then continued, "That explains much. You know, I do not think too much of genetic predestination. A child becomes Vulcan, Human, Klingon or whatever mostly by cultural influence. Sehlats and logistics boards make a Vulcan just as green blood and pointed ears do".  
  
Äänekoski was somewhat astonished at the sudden open-ness from his instructor, who had never before uttered a personal opinion; enthusiastically he embarked on the debate which might well be their last.  
  
"You mean, if a human child grows up surrounded with Sehlats and logistics boards by the Vulcan culture, it would later behave like a Vulcan?"  
  
"Indeed. Of course it would never really belong, and as a human it would emotionally feel that separation, so that I would deem such an experiment inadvisable, but its main behavioural patterns would beyond any doubt be Vulcan".  
  
"Odd. That child would be missing all the abilities Vulcans are born with".  
  
"Perhaps it would experience some difficulties when trying to learn the mind meld or the nerve pinch; the logic, however, and the suppression of all emotions I believe to be a product of cultural influences".  
  
Äänekoski pondered that for a while. "Sounds rather credible. I'm only astonished that you, as a Vulcan, hold forth such an opinion. In my experience, most Vulcans are rather - how should I say - convinced of their fundamental difference".  
  
"Conceited about it, you mean, Lieutenant. You must take into consideration that I am a renegade Vulcan. Albeit my estrangement from my home planet was caused by other reasons, it has allowed me to view the culture I stem from with some distance, from the outside".  
  
As if he felt he had gone too far, he turned to the clock above the display screen. "Your comrades are obviously not going to appear today. So you could really go as well and get yourself that coffee after all".  
  
Startled by the sudden dismissal from the fascinating Vulcan's company, Äänekoski could hardly control his emotions. All he could to was veer his reaction to the very surface of what went on inside him. "Stop going on about your coffee", he groaned. "Although I am from Finland, I prefer tea!"  
  
Suvuk regarded him with raised eyebrows and pulled-down corners of his mouth, an expression of the utmost amusement with him. The, he turned away without a word and returned to the display. Äänekoski gave up, suppressed another apology, and switched off his recording device. To his unending astonishment, Suvuk approached the small replicator other instructors used to get materials for experiments, and ordered, in a neutral voice, two mugs of black tea.  
  
"If that is the case, you shall have your tea". He returned to Äänekoski, handed him one of the mugs, and, with the other, sat down on the chair before Jukka-Pekka in the first row, turning it around. "What I would be interested in hearing from you was how you argued the need for specialised exotechnicians with Starfleet command. On which theoretical foundations did you build your discipline?"  
  
For a moment, Äänekoski couldn't speak with joy about the friendliness Suvuk so unexpectedly showed him. Then he realised that it had happened after all: deep inside he felt the unmistakable signs for exactly the inappropriate reaction he had hoped to avoid in connection with Suvuk. The Vulcan regarded him seriously and sipped from his tea. Of course, he still expected an answer.  
  
"Well", Äänekoski managed to utter, "I did not plan on inventing a discipline. I only knew I wanted to specialise in alien technology and to be able to repair machines incomprehensible to others. I had the first inklings about that since my youth. But when I returned to the Academy three years ago, I realised that my discipline didn't exist. So I assembled a curriculum for myself from the existing courses, and was rather astonished when people started calling me an exotechnician, and thought I was doing something highly original. I thought there were more of my kind".  
  
Suvuk pondered this, shaking his head. "Why? Starfleet needs people who can repair their own machines. Only after the Borg attack people began realising how important the understanding of alien technology is; the Federation was so especially helpless against them because they had nobody able to fathom the Borg technology. But even at this point I wouldn't have had the idea of educating technical personnel to become exotechnicians. You did show original thinking indeed".  
  
"But I never planned to; I don't consider myself to be original".  
  
"The human way of playing down one's strong points in an unrealistic way called modesty always seemed to me rather counterproductive. We are here to serve; but if we do not admit to what we are able to do, it will impede our service, Lieutenant".  
  
"Interesting point of view, Lieutenant. If you think so, perhaps you can convince Starfleet next year to educate more technical staff to become exotechnicians. Especially as it should be obvious how convenient it would be for the outposts if they had personnel specialised on repairing alien machines":  
  
"I already talked to the Academy leadership, and your ideas are now moving slowly through the mills of Terran bureaucracy. However, I will be unable to monitor the progress, as I shall not remain here. I intend to pursue my own research project".  
  
"Which would be?" Äänekoski had dropped all caution; he was speaking in honest curiosity.  
  
"The search for the traces of that spacefaring civilisation of cetaceans, of which you probably heard rumours".  
  
"Of course I did. I would really love to get to dissemble a probe from that civilisation. It is amazing what those whales did with their communication and telepathy waves".  
  
Suvuk was silent with astonishment. "You know", he said reflectively, "you just said something very valuable indeed. In their communications to us, the whales are so fixated on our use of shells that I never fully realised what the equivalent would be in their culture. I thought it was based on communication; but on a physical level, it isn't matter as with our culture, but waves. Shells are merely receptacles for waves; so what whales do with shells is not important. We are so fixated on matter that we never even asked the right questions. Sometimes it seemed illogical to me to teach this basic course, when I could have done research or taught specialised students during the time. Just now, you proved to me that my decision was right".  
  
"We are here to serve, I for you just as you for me", Äänekoski said plainly. They looked at each other over their teacups, and for a moment a strange intimacy grew between them, as if they simply belonged together to tackle the universe from a common point of view.  
  
All of a sudden, Suvuk got up and returned the mugs to the replicator, where they dissolved. "I shall wait no longer", he said in his usual cold and no-nonsense way.  
  
He waited in front of the door until Äänekoski had left the classroom to then lock it by means of an encoded card. "Live long and prosper", he said curtly, turning around the corner.  
  
Äänekoski looked after him, completely flabbergasted. This unexpected friendliness and the subsequent harsh rejection had been too much for his stirred-up human emotions. How close they had suddenly been, and how impersonal Suvuk's farewells had then been by contrast! It had first seemed to him that they were developing a common basis for a friendship, and now he stood here, left alone, and was never going to see the wonderful, astonishing alien again.  
  
He felt like crying, and wandered off to his quarters in order to do exactly that over a few beers and some lapinpystit.  
  
Suvuk stood alone in the turbolift and harshly criticised himself. The tea had definitely been the wrong move, but even the remark about the moulding influences of culture was too much. He should not even have encouraged the human to talk about the logistics board. As if he had never been educated to control himself, Suvuk had dropped one barrier after the other and had at the end looked the human in the eye, completely relaxed, and talked to him as an equal; and worse, as if they belonged together, as if there could be a connection. Suddenly he had begun doubting his in-Vulcan loneliness, suddenly it had not seemed necessary to keep up the reserve with which a Vulcan approached any stranger against Äänekoski. He had rarely committed such a capital mistake. He would need hours of meditation to regain his self-control.  
  
Perhaps it was only that he was to expect the next bout of pon farr within the next year; perhaps his Vulcan instinct had started asserting he needed a bond-mate; but actually letting go of his usual coldness and severity towards an attractive human male, that was absurd. As if there was any escape from the monstrosity of his mere existence! 


	3. Chapter 3

Lieutenant Jukka-Pekka Äänekoski stood in the rear observation deck of the U.S.S. Roddenberry, gazed at the small, blue globe of the vanishing Earth and was suffering from a bad case of lovesickness. While on embarkation leave at home, in Kemi, he had sat at the kitchen table for hours, drinking tea, staring at the logistics board and feeling generally ashamed, until his mother had sent him away to collect lakka berries or do some other chore; compared to that it was almost a relief to go off to his new post and get something really useful to do.  
  
His old Roddenberry had been a small, somewhat shabby ship named after a hardly important US Airforce hero from the 20th century; and the new edition continued worthily in that tradition. In addition, the poor Great Bird, as she was called for her slightly unhappy shape, had been forced to carry far more passengers than she really could. Luckily, he would have to stay on board only until they reached Starbase 245, from where he, like most of the passengers, would take another ship to his destination in that part of Federation space; but it was a real pain in the neck that he had to share quarters with two female Deltan astrocartographers who refused to believe that he was exclusively homosexual, their oath of celibacy notwithstanding. There wasn't even a replicator in that pitiable little corner; if he wanted anything to eat or even just a cup of tea, he had to queue at the replicators in the chronically overfilled crew mess.  
  
Of course the Great Bird was by no means a passenger ship; she had merely had the bad luck of being scheduled to leave from Earth at exactly the date when the graduates from the Academy were sent to their posts after embarkation leave. And some desk jockey had filled the poor little ship to the last bulkhead instead of assigning some of the passenger to the Enterprise leaving at the same time for the same destination; of course one couldn't ask the great Picard to carry a shipload of fledgling officers.  
  
So now he was marooned on this pitiful bucket of bolts, trying to hide from those tiresome Deltan chicks. The only holodeck was reserved for the crew, of course; if he didn't want to get unspeakably bored, he could only try to find a terminal on the recreation deck where he could play 3D-chess or read Suvuk's publications. The last activity seemed somewhat silly to him; but the man had indeed fascinating ideas that were well worth reading. At least JP knew by now what Suvuk had meant with his monologue on whales and shells. It seemed obvious that the whales would use a technology based on telepathic waves, not on matter and anti-matter, in their ZA drive; and obviously they had did possess such technology. Äänekoski turned away, bored by the moons of Jupiter, to find a terminal where he could read Suvuk's most recent paper, apparently written in Oxford, which he got as a data cube from Starfleet headquarters before embarkation; it was so recent that the sadly lacking computers of the Roddenberry hadn't even downloaded it yet. The title hinted at the possibility that Suvuk had in fact elaborated on the idea he'd had in the conversation with Äänekoski.  
  
But when he'd finally located a vacant terminal that was working and capable of reading data cubes, Jukka-Pekka had to take his leave from there very soon afterwards in order to have a good cry in the relative privacy of an evil-smelling privy. In the curt acknowledgements of the paper he had found his own name mentioned; despite all theoretical fascination for the ideas of the elusive Vulcan he was still sorely love-sick on his behalf. And thus he was forced to sit blubbering in this stinking place while the man he loved exercised his Vulcan logic in the most elite ivory towers of human tradition. Life as such seemed very humiliating to Äänekoski at that moment.  
  
After three days aboard the U.S.S. Roddenberry even Suvuk had to admit he was hungry. He almost wished he had stayed in Oxford with its old-fashioned dining halls, but his research demanded an extended stay in the field at this stage, of course. However, it was much less than fathomable to his Vulcan logic why Terran bureaucracy had been unable to distribute the embarking staff equally between the Roddenberry and the Enterprise. And the ship's quartermaster must have had an especially obnoxious streak of his human sense of humour to put him in a cabin with three returning Klingon exchange students, who had brought enormous numbers of bottles aboard in some extraordinary large paper bags to carouse on, accompanied by unending raucous laughter. The three days he had spent at a computer terminal the science section had let him have, as he had served in exactly that department of the ship's predecessor. Their replicators, however, unceasingly produced various versions of a serum against a disease raging among the main food crops of a planet in the vicinity of Starbase 245. As a result, Suvuk couldn't even get a cup of tea from them and was thus forced to eat in the overfilled crew mess; as the officers had their own replicators there wasn't even an officers' mess. In any case Suvuk thought it inappropriate to insist on his privileges as an officer in view of the catastrophic conditions aboard the ship.  
  
He queued for the best part of thirty minutes until it was his turn to use the replicator; he ordered a salad, plomeek soup and a pot of tea when he finally reached it. The salad, however, looked very suspicious, so he returned it to the machine. Behind him one of the omnipresent drunken Klingons was getting impatient, so Suvuk vacated the replicator without ordering a replacement.  
  
He stood at the end of the great hall full of eating, drinking and discussing inhabitants of half the known galaxy, somewhat forlornly looking for an empty table. Not able to locate one, he wandered through the aisles for a while, looking for an acceptable dining companion. A small group of Vulcans ostentatiously turned their heads when he passed and went into some kind of huddle. The logic of his compatriots was by no means beyond criticism; although he was proclaimed officially non-existent, every Vulcan space cadet recognised him immediately in order to avoid him.  
  
Here was a table with a solitary blond human reading a bundle of flimsies while ingesting some sandwiches. Without any comment or polite phrase Suvuk sat and started on his plomeek soup. He obviously must have caused some noise with his spoon, for the next thing he heard was a somewhat strangled sound from the person opposite, as if the sandwiches had suddenly turned out to consist of straw. Suvuk lifted his eyes from his plomeek soup and found himself looking into the slightly reddened face of Lieutenant Äänekoski. The feeling that came over him in that moment was worse than any of his experiences in this area so far.  
  
As Äänekoski was only human, he sometimes couldn't resist the temptation of overlooking the adamant laws of every universe governing probability and chance in order to interpret the happenings around him as fate, predestination or boding portents. Finding himself sitting opposite the man he had thought so far away, and had been yearning for so much, seemed like a miracle to him in the first moment. There was Suvuk, having sat down without comment at his table in this revolting crew mess. He was somewhat green in the face.  
  
"Don't let yourself be disturbed by me", he said, redundantly; there was nothing Äänekoski preferred to being disturbed unexpectedly by Suvuk. "Unfortunately, there was no vacant table".  
  
Äänekoski forced himself to recover his composure and remarked as neutrally as possible, "I don't mind; rather you than those drunken Klingons. At least, you won't make me drink anything worse than tea".  
  
For a moment, Suvuk seemed unable to comprehend his meaning; then he pointedly misinterpreted the remark and filled up Äänekoski's empty cup from his own pot.  
  
Such a stubborn Vulcan. "Thank you; I didn't mean it that way, though".  
  
"Exactly that way. You mustn't forget that by now I am quite used to the vagueness of human conversation".  
  
"Yes, but I'm from Finland; we're much more direct than most humans".  
  
Suvuk pulled down the corners of his mouth as if suppressing a smile. "En ollut unohdanut sitä. Any other interpretation of your remark, however, makes no sense to me".  
  
"Well", Äänekoski said. Suddenly, he felt relaxed and relieved in a dangerous way. "With all Finnish directness: I was referring to the last conversation we had at the Academy and was merely expressing the hope of discussing other topics with you during the voyage, as the company aboard the Great Bird leaves much to be desired, apart from you".  
  
Apparently, Suvuk was determined not to notice the hidden overtures for which JP was cursing himself already. "I believe you are referring to the Klingons".  
  
"Well, my particular problem consists of two Deltan chicks quartered in my cabin. For the last three days, I have practically continuously been sitting at a terminal on the rec. deck".  
  
"I can understand your situation; the quarters assigned to me is occupied by a changing number of Klingons who drink at all hours from various bottle they take from large brown paper bags. I have stored my luggage in a locker and mostly stay in the science section".  
  
Äänekoski laughed despite himself. "I don't envy you; but my Deltans aren't exactly peaceful either, if you know what I mean".  
  
Suvuk lifted an eyebrow. "Better than you think. As a Vulcan among humans, I am well versed with the problem of unwanted attention".  
  
Jukka-Pekka felt himself blush dramatically. Had he really been that obvious to deserve such a direct rebuff from Suvuk? He slowly lifted his eyes out of his teacup and realised that the Vulcan's face had turned somewhat green. He decided not to act offended; Suvuk was right, his love was really more than inappropriate. "I merely meant to say that I saw a possibility for some civilised conversation in you. I certainly don't plan to get on your nerves with some human bla ja huu, or make you do anything worse than drink tea".  
  
Shit, that was already too much again.  
  
Suvuk was slightly astonished about the fact that his remark had obviously hurt and embarrassed the human. He suppressed a feeling of satisfaction at the realisation that Äänekoski obviously reacted to him in an emotional way and decided to be placatable. "If you intend to make me drink tea, as you phrase it, you can begin by taking the empty pot and queue at the replicator for a refill".  
  
The human happily and astonishedly grinned at him, poured the last drop into Suvuk's cup and went away with the pot.  
  
Of course there were logical reasons to accept the company of the intelligent Finn. Despite the fact that he was increasedly attractive to Suvuk there was no incalculable risk of losing too much of his Vulcan composure during the short time they had until their ways must inevitably part at Starbase 245.  
  
It came as a pleasant surprise when the human started asking well-informed questions about his scientific projects after returning with the teapot. Their discussion remained on a purely factual level, and Suvuk more and more retracted from his former almost inimical position. When the third pot of tea they drank together suffered an accident due to the influence of a drunken Klingon female, ruining Äänekoski's flimsies in the process, Suvuk suggested moving the discussion to the science section. There, they began to substantiate their discussions about the technical repercussions of the appearance of that historical whale probe with material they called up from the ship's data base; and finally they decided saving the data and their comments to a new file. When they could see that their pastime was reaching a much more serious level than they had originally intended, Äänekoski went away to get another, larger pot of tea from the crew mess.  
  
After the Finn had gone, Suvuk noticed his own exhaustion which had been kept at bay by the invigorating scientific work. Additionally, his reserve against the human's company asserted itself once more. He simply enjoyed it too much. The present collaboration was extremely acceptable from a logical point of view, and of course there was no reason against sharing the authorship of an article with someone else, especially as it was someone whose original thinking deserved the increased attention of the scientific community. However, he was less than certain that he would be able to distance himself from the human after this shared diversion, and a terrible suspicion arose in him, suggesting that he would miss Äänekoski on an emotional level after parting from him. He leaned his head on his hands and closed his eyes for a moment to meditate on the situation he'd let himself become embroiled in.  
  
When he opened his eyes again, he noticed that his head was lying on the table while some circuit diagram danced on the screen. A teapot stood near the edge of the table over a Bunsen burner, and between him and it someone sat, working intensely at the computer.  
  
"Hello, Suvuk", Äänekoski said with pleasant innocence. "Here, have some tea, and then look at what I thought up while you slept".  
  
This greeting seemed too personal by far. Suvuk took the proffered teacup and, without any sleepiness, asked for the meaning of the green circuit in the upper left corner of the diagram.  
  
Translation! En ollut unohdanut sitä = I hadn't forgotten that. 


	4. Chapter 4

Starbase 245. Wonderful peace and quietness. The Klingon exchange students had immediately continued their voyage aboard a freighter; and most of the regular academy graduates had also departed for their respective posts. Suvuk and Äänekoski were sitting in a small spare room in the science section where they wouldn't be disturbed while negotiating with some scientific journal on Earth about publishing their paper. That is, Suvuk was negotiating while Jukka-Pekka looked on and was wondering.  
  
For hours he hadn't thought of the irritating fact that he was in love with Suvuk; too many other things had needed his attention; but now he wasn't trying to follow the conversation any more, and watched Suvuk from the corner of his eye while ruminating on what had happened.  
  
For five days they had, among the general chaos aboard the *Great Bird*, lived in their own private world where there hardly existed anything except their work and their discussions about it. They had taken turns in sleeping for a few hours on a discarded medicot in a storage room, they had queued at the replicators together, eaten together at the corner of some table in the crew mess, not even losing their calm when directly beside them the security personnel had tried to energetically hospitalize some Klingons with advanced alcohol poisoning. JP had grown curious and tried a spoonful of Suvuk's plomeek soup, which tasted horrible; Suvuk, careless with exhaustion, had upon this tasted a forkful of the Finn's *maksalaatiko* and had, to his shame, be forced to spit it out at once with revulsion, as despite the fact that the former animal components of the dish came from cell cultures and not from dead creatures, the taste of iron based blood was utterly unpalatable to the Vulcan. Using the Bunsen burner and old-fashioned teabags they'd got in large amounts from the replicator, they'd brewed tea in the science section; and with curt answers they had sent some curious passengers and crew members about their business. The feeling of being included into the Vulcan's solitude had made Jukka-Pekka very happy; they enjoyed a close-knit unity among their confused environment. While Suvuk was sleeping for a few hours, some of his compatriots had tried asking the Finn nosey questions about the project; he had politely advised them to ask Suvuk himself, who would doubtlessly supply much more satisfying answers, upon which the Vulcans had retreated without a further word, leaving him to his diagrams. He'd stood up and gone quietly to the storage room where Suvuk slept. There he lay, ramrod straight on his back, arms crossed like those of a statue on a mediaeval tomb. Jukka-Pekka had looked at him meditatively, and an almost painful tenderness, mixed with a strong protective instinct, had welled up in him. What had driven the otherwise oh-so-logical Vulcans to put such a general ban on his beloved, special, highly gifted Suvuk? He couldn't imagine him having done anything that merited such a treatment. The Vulcans should, after all, be able to logically perceive when their traditions and taboos were outdated. Äänekoski felt the strong urge to enclose Suvuk in his arms and to defend him against the entire galaxy, if necessary. Just that moment, the Vulcan had opened his eyes and asked, completely awake, "Have you encountered any difficulties, Lieutenant?" It was enviable how quickly an awakening Vulcan gained full consciousness. Suvuk, on his part, had sometimes seemed slightly amused about the Finns reaction when he woke up. The Human grunted a few times protestingly, then recognized who was facing him and murmured gladly, "Hello, Suvuk" before getting up from the cot. Suvuk would stand in front of him and have his arms at his back and that "negative grin" JP knew so well by now on his face. Once, he'd protested and said, "I know you're making fun of me; you don't have to hide your amusement".  
  
Suvuk lifted both eyebrows. "You rather anthropomorphise my reaction with that interpretation; I suppose the reason for that lapse lies in the period of rest you just terminated. Wake up, Lieutenant, your presence is required". They had addressed each other as "Lieutenant" and used the polite mode when talking Finnish and not English; but the Vulcan hadn't protested when Äänekoski had occasionally used his name, and even the one one time when he'd said *mä odotan sua* (instead of *teitä*) the Vulcan had let that pass, and merely chided the Finn for his impatience. They hadn't even once talked about the past, let alone their plans for the future; as a team they existed, so their unspoken compact, in the present only, just for the duration of their voyage aboard *Roddenberry*. JP didn't want to think about the future, really, which was rising above him as an unending Suvuk-less void.  
  
As he was listening now to Suvuk discussing the publication of their article in general and scientific networks, as data cubes and hard copies with some science editor (without quite understanding why the Vulcan insisted the article should first be published on Earth in September), Jukka-Pekka was internally busy with the painful anticipation of their forthcoming separation. Without Suvuk and his invigorating presence, even the prospect of getting his hands on endless amounts of technology from the furthest corners of the galaxy didn't seem so enticing. Despite himself, he sighed, and Suvuk turned to him.  
  
"Olen varma että kaikki toimiihan lopultakin hyvin; älkää pelkä, luutnantti. Päätoimittaja on vielä vähän itsepäinen, mutta se tulee pian selväksi. Odotakaa vain vielä pari minuutia". He'd never doubted that Suvuk would be able to deal with the editor; nevertheless he nodded reassuredly and tried to follow the conversation once again.  
  
At least it should be possible to keep up communication via subspace channels; even the proud, lonely Vulcan wouldn't that easily be ready to discard such a good working companion. If only he'd be able to reign in his unsuitable emotion, they could at least keep what they'd achieved so far, even if he'd miss talking to Suvuk over a cup of tea. He'd miss being woken for work by the Vulcan, or being admonished for over-eagerness or hurry. He'd even miss Suvuk's way of keeping his distance despite all closeness. Damn, he'd bitterly miss that man, and he was quite sure he'd spend his voyage to Deep Space Nine in his cabin, crying and/or drunk. He hadn't had one drop of alcohol since Suvuk had first sat down at his table. That couldn't be good for a Finn.  
  
Suvuk closed the comm channel and turned to Äänekoski. He lifted an eyebrow. "You are wearing a facial expression as if you'd bitten on a cactus. I can assure you, the conditions of this publication are quite acceptable, even if my behaviour didn't give you that impression. For some occasions, I have adopted the human custom of exaggerating somewhat".  
  
*If only you'd adopt some other human customs*, JP thought unhappily. "I trust you, Lieutenant; the procedure was just a bit tedious for me".  
  
"You need something to do. Get us a pot of tea".  
  
"I'd honestly rather have a cold salmiakkikossu now".  
  
Suvuk again lifted an eyebrow. "If you can convince the replicator to correctly synthesize that substance, you can get one for me as well. I've never tried it".  
  
"Alcohol?"  
  
"Salmiakkikossu; I have some experiences with alcohol".  
  
"I thought Vulcans didn't drink".  
  
"That is correct".  
  
While he programmed the replicator, Äänekoski thought about this apparent paradox. When the second icy-cold glass materialized, he realized with sudden embarrassment what Suvuk had referred to. Alcohol was among the dangerous substances Vulcans injected themselves with to suppress their periodic bouts of sheer biology. *If only you weren't that stubborn, you could do without it in the future*. He turned back to Suvuk, glasses in hand, although he felt that he'd blushed. Suvuk was somewhat green in the face as well; he seemed to regret having hinted at his private circumstances. One wrong question, and he could lose him forever. *Control yourself, Jukka-Pekka.*  
  
An announcement on the intercom saved him from his embarrassment.  
  
**Attention, everyone. As we were just informed, the *U.S.S. Intrepid* was forced to change her route at short notice. All personnel that was meant to be transported to the Bajoran sector aboard this ship will be informed about alternative transportation in due time. End message.**  
  
Aghast, JP stared at the intercom. That was the ship he was meant to take; departure was due in ten hours. Perhaps this logistical breakdown bought him a little time in Suvuk's company.  
  
Suvuk accepted the glass and threw the contents down in one gulp. "Uskomattomasti hirveää. If you'd excuse me now, I will have to organise alternative transport. Unfortunately, I am sure that this change of plans was due to my person".  
  
Of course. Traditionally, the *Intrepid* was Starfleet's all-Vulcan ship. If Suvuk had been meant to travel on it, then obviously.....  
  
Äänekoski couldn't quite suppress a happy, idiotic smile. "You mean, as they don't want you aboard, they're not taking anyone at all?"  
  
"Correct".  
  
"Ne vitun itsepäiset pilkunnussijat!"  
  
"Niin. However, even your worst language won't help us now. I consider myself honour bound to offer an alternative to my fellow travellers; so I will have to leave you to your own devices for a while".  
  
"Don't be hasty, Lieutenant. I don't think Starfleet has another ship for us just up their sleeve, at least not so fast. We should try and get ourselves a ride on the free market, if you're in that much of a hurry."  
  
"Did you say 'we'?" For a moment, actual astonishment showed on Suvuk's face.  
  
"If the buses don't run any more, you share a cab. The *Intrepid* was the ship I was supposed to travel on as well. But I think you'd better leave the negotiations to me this time, if you really mean to charter a ship."  
  
"Do you perhaps suspect that a free-lance space captain, were I to approach him, might take financial advantage of our situation?"  
  
JP grinned broadly. "Yes; everyone thinks Vulcans are too honest to drive a good bargain, so they take you for a ride instead."  
  
Suvuk almost imperceptibly raised his eyebrows. "I appreciate the sprit, if not the metaphor. So, if you'd please accompany me to the starbase commander; we should at least get her approval before approaching the free market."  
  
Walking through the starbase corridors beside Äänekoski, Suvuk tired to get a grip on his runaway emotions. Up until now, allowing himself the Finn's company had been acceptable and even logical under the circumstances; but suddenly the development had reached a critical point. The human's emotional reaction to the prospect of continuing their association was so obvious; Suvuk could already anticipate the point when it would grow beyond what a Terran could master, and then all contact between them would have to cease. For when the time of his *pon farr* finally approached and this alluring temptation was still around, would he really have the discipline to take his drugs as always instead of seeking shelter at the broad shoulders of the Finn? Suvuk didn't even dare to think about the implications of such a decision.  
  
The starbase commander raised no objections, seemed even relieved not to have to care for transport to the Bajoran sector. He couls never quite comprehend the concept by which many humans equated work with unconvenience. *We're here to serve* Well, he could serve his fellow travellers to Bajor.  
  
Lieutenant Äänekoski then directed his course toward the recreation area without any further comment.  
  
In the turbolift, Suvuk finally asked: "I suppose your plan of action includes a visit to one of the less salubrious venues on this station."  
  
"Right." The Finn grinned again; he seemed to take a certain pleasure in the idea. "We will sit in the shadiest corner of the darkest space bar we can find where scantily dressed life forms dance in blue light on the tables and every intoxicating substance in the known universe is sold; and we will lurk in murky corners with strange figures drinking evil-smelling liquid from weirdly misshapen glasses, and finally we will make a deal with an Orion pirate or a Ferengi arms dealer. If such a scenario worries you, you can take the turbolift back up to the science section, of course."  
  
This was a very colourful version of Suvuk's actual consideration, and suddenly a suspicion rose in him. "Lieutenant, I get the impression you are *pulling my leg*, as the human metaphor goes. Why should such an ambience be needed for procuring transport aboard a space vessel?"  
  
Instead of an answer, Äänekoski merely smiled secretively and actually winked at the Vulcan.  
  
"Lieutenant, did that one glass of salmiakkikossu indeed damage your intellect so much? You had time enough to make fun of me at the Academy; chartering a ship is serious business." The human's behaviour indicated a tender mockery far too intimate for Suvuk's liking. *He seems to think I am his already.*  
  
"You just wait, Lieutenant."  
  
Suvuk felt the irrational wish to take a somewhat more energetic stance towards the Finn. He seemed to enjoy his temporary superiority, and that development was thoroughly undesirable. Any further emotional entanglement might be fatal, especially a quarrel and subsequent reconciliation. The logical way of proceding was thus to bear his present mood patiently and not let himself be provoked.  
  
Unfortunately, that was not to be. "I'm sorry", Äänekoski finally said when the turbolift stooed and they emerged into a bustling passageway. "Your doubts about our endeavours were so obvious, I couldn't keep my coarse human nature from pulling your leg a bit."  
  
"I did not venture any comment; I have no idea what you're referring to."  
  
Äänekoski stopped and blocked the Vulcan's way. "Suvuk, you could just as well have written *Help, I'm being abducted* on the turbolift walls. I'm honestly sorry if I reacted inapropriately to that."  
  
"I do quite gather what you're driving at, Lieutenant, but our present discussion is eminetly unneccessary. We should rather do what we came for."  
  
"Well, then we go in there. And don't you worry, Lieutenant, it's all completely harmless."  
  
*He is trying to comfort me. In the human way, I am meant to gain strength and reassurance from his presence and his affection.*  
  
At this most unsuitable moment when they stepped into the establishment and sat down at a table, a fundamental realisation dawned on Suvuk: *He loves me. And in his understanding that means not only that he wishes me to accomodate him, but also his commitment to stand by me and give me what I need.*  
  
As if to prove the truth of this, Äänekoski leaned towards the Vulcan and lightly touched his wrist with two fingertips. *Just sit there and look as neutral as any Vulcan, Suvuk; I know what I'm doing. Your dignity is in no danger of being compromised.*  
  
These words, and the affection they carried, came over as clear as if they'd been spoken aloud. How could this Finnish technician know the lower Vulcan telepathy, of which this kind of short mind touch was a part? And how did they ever establish that kind of mental link that enabled him to use this technique in the first place?  
  
Äänekoski lightly tapped the console glass in the middle of their table and ordered two cups of tea that immediately materialised before them; then he stood up to walk over to the piano player tinkling out quiet jazz in a corner of the bar, put something in the basket standing on her instrument, and exchanged a few words with her.  
  
The bar was far less intimidating than Suvuk had assumed. There was no more spectacular entertainment than the live music, the light was of a normal colour, if slightly dimmed, and the tables were populated by Starfleet officers and civilians in a mixture of the most diverse species, all of them unexcitedly minding their own business. No place that would be the least inappropriate for a decent Vulcan.  
  
Äänekoski returned to the table, sat down beside Suvuk and drank from his cup of tea. "We only have to wait now."  
  
Suvuk finally shed his considerations and grew almost boisterous, for a Vulcan. He might try and give the human a reverse dose of his own medicine.  
  
"I believe we will have to pay some kind of remuneration to the proprietors of this establishment?"  
  
"Don't think about it, Lieutenant, I'll take care of that."  
  
"I believe I am supposed to thank you? Still, it is illogical to pay for something that we can get for free in the crew quarters and the office sections of the station."  
  
"I am sure there are no pubs on Vulcans; but most species enjoy the atmospere of a bar, the company, the music, etc."  
  
Suvuk remembered the cybernetics cafeteria at ShiKahr, and his younger self sitting there with Sadek, discussing potential improvements upon common translation algorithms. He hadn't thought of Sadek for years. Nobody had ever been that close to him afterwards; now it seemed that Lieutenant Äänekoski might fill that void.  
  
"There are comparable places on Vulcan", he forced himself to return to the subject, especially as he had raised it. "They are, however, of a much less commercial nature and serve the community. The departments of the ShiKahr academy, for example, all had their special venues for students and teachers to gather informally to discuss their work."  
  
Äänekoski frowned. "Then I don't understand why you objected so much to having coffee with my class."  
  
"I did not deem it appropriate to encourage informal contact with my human students. The scientific level of our informal conversations in the cybernetics cafeteria at ShiKahr I couldn't expect from you even in the classroom."  
  
The human gazed at him distractedly for a while, then seemd to gather the sum of his courage to ask, "As you are an exologist I don't really understand why you seem to think it neccessary to keep all alien species at an arm's length. Don't talk to me about scientific level; it was obvious you wouldn't tolerate anyone close to you, for any reason."  
  
"I have my reasons; I don't tolerate prying questions of personal nature, either."  
  
That should be enough to deter even an infatuated Finn.  
  
"You mean to say you discourage all contact to keep people from taking too much of an interest in you?"  
  
"Correct." The conversation was taking a turn he had not at all intended; he had meant to mock the human a little and was instead now analysed by Äänekoski.  
  
At that moment, his growing unease was lifted when a humanoid of obviuosly Bajoran descent walked up to their table.  
  
"I heard you're looking for transport to the Bajoran sector?"  
  
"Take a seat", Äänekoski said. "I am Lieutenant Äänekoski, and this is Lieutenant Suvuk. The ship scheduled to take us and some of our colleagues to our posts on and around Bajor isn't going."  
  
"Since when does Starfleet need to charter freighters? Don't you have any vessels of your own?"  
  
"Waiting for another ship to be assigned to the task would mean inevitable delay", Suvuk supplied.  
  
"Well, if you're in such a hurry to go to work, I'm glad to help you. My name is Andra Gal, and I am the owner and captain of the fast freighter *Millenial Falcon*. I am carrying a cargo of electronics components bound for Bajor, but I still have room for a some passengers. The question now is, how many, and how much?"  
  
Negotiations now touched technical and logistical aspects like the number of passengers, the kind of services required, supplies, berths, and of course payment. Captain Andra insisted on being paid in gold-pressed latinum after the Bajoran fashion (they considered their own currency too unstable, it seemed), and Äänekoski bargained vigorously.  
  
Suvuk retracted his attention to the middle distance and thoughtfully watched Äänekoski in action. He was so competent and skillful with these things. It was obvious he would make an ideal companion for the Vulcan. In the central, intellectual areas of life they reached the peak of their performance by uniting their gifts in unison, while in the more mundane aspects their skills and interests perfectly complemented the other's. If only those emotional undertones were absent he wouldn't hesitate to apply to Starfleet to make the Finn his assistant; but so he knew he would be forced to reject the human; and if a human experienced rejection, all chances of an effective cooperation went out of the window. And the mental link for which there was no logical reason to exist gave rise to caution as well.  
  
It seemed that Äänekoski and Andra had struck a deal; they shook hands as a sign of accord, and the Bajoran left the table.  
  
"If we ask all the others to contribute a little, this shouldn't be too much of a financial burden to us. His price is astonishingly reasonable; let's just hope he has no ulterior motives."  
  
"I assumed it was established that I would bear the cost, as I am responsible for the *Intrepid's* change in schedule. What ulterior motives are you thinking of?"  
  
"His ship is in such a sorry state he needs free help from Starfleet technicians; or he carries illegal cargo and likes to have some bona fide passengers as a front. But I won't let you foot the bill on your own; it costs you at least a month's pay."  
  
Such a stubborn human; in Suvuks experience, the issue of money offered limitless resources of dissent. "Lieutenant, I do not plan to use my private funds. Starfleet gives me access to a medium-sized fortune to finance my research, and I can requsition the neccessary means from those sources. If all is said and done, Starfleet is responsilbe for our transport, so the expenses are fully justified."  
  
Äänekoski looked at him with a new shade of admiration. "People always say that Vulcan's can't relate to money; but you seem to know exactly what you're doing."  
  
"You have to differentiate a little. We have no sense for accumulating personal prossessions; I do not own any item of any value whatsoever, or any item I couldn't do without at any time. However, I am well acquainted with money as an abstract resource that can be exchanged for transport, research equipment, information etc. As they know my attitude concerning this, Starfleet leaves the details to my discretion."  
  
"Don't you have any personal mementoes or keepsakes? Even Androids have such things."  
  
"There is nothing for the sake of which I would want to keep anything, Lieutenant. You are overstepping your bounds again. We should rather start planning the logistics of our voyage. When can we embark, where is the ship, how many persons have to be notified, what supplies do we require? Is there a need for medical supplies or spare parts to prevent mishap? How do we get the means of payment in the required form? We should return to the science section, I will requisition a logistics board, and we can start working."  
  
Suvuk noticed that it was possible to keep the human at bay without rejecting him utterly. *If only there wasn't that inexplicable mental link.*  
  
The *Millenial Falcon* was a sorry bucket of bolts. She stood in one of the starbase's civilan bays, small, greasy, the colour of corroded brass against the shimmering white surface of the flawless Starfleet floor. She didn't even have working transporters; the eight Starfleet officers and four civilian Federation employees were forced to carry all the supplies for the journey aboard with their own hands. For some reason, station operations didn't even allow Starfleet owned antigrav units anywhere near Captain Andra and his helper, a giant, furry Catellan, who were loading crates until the last possible moment, while everyone else was busy lugging supplies for the voyage and their personal belongings inside by way of a single groaning metal ramp.  
  
The deal had turned out to be a lot worse than he'd thought, Äänekoski mused. The Falcon didn't even have replicators or a primitive medical kit, so the passengers had to take care of every single piece of equipment themselves. Jukka-Pekka noticed Suvuk trying to manhandle a huge aluminum crate that seemed too heavy even for the considerable strength of a Vulcan, and quickly went over to give him a hand. The thing really was abysmally heavy.  
  
"At least we don't have to bring bottles of air to breathe", he tired to lighten the situation. "What's in this box?"  
  
"Air recycling unit and oxygen cartridges", Suvuk gasped. "I fear you are mistaken here, Lieutenant; the ship's air system can't supply more than ten persons maximum."  
  
"It seems I'm the one who has been taken for a ride, Lieutenant. Wait a moment - yes, like this, go on."  
  
"The vessel will serve its purpose; we never expected a luxury cruiser. Mind that corner, Lieutenant; you don't want to junk the ship before it's even left the base."  
  
"Don't have to, it's falling apart as it is", JP wheezed, trying to steer the crate gingerly around the aforementioned corner. "Where does this thing go?"  
  
"Cargo bay four. Your observations aren't quite correct; the ship's structural integrity is in no doubt, its cargo capacity is enormous compared to its size, and its outer hull is extremely sound, while some of the inner bulkheads are admittedly suffering from slight corrosion. The ship may not boast transporters, but it offers full warp capacity. I would have assumed that you, being a technician, would have checked up those details yourself. Down there!"  
  
"Sorry, Suvuk, that is cargo bay three. I tried to have a look around, but the Catellan kicked me out."  
  
Suvuk tugged in mild irrtation at his end of the crate. "It is cargo bay four; the Cardassian symbol for four somewhat resembles the Klingon three, hence your mistake. Now come on."  
  
The Finn stubbornly remained rooted to the spot. "Cardassian? Why does a Bojoran have a Cardassian ship? That can mean trouble."  
  
"Do you want me to continue loading this crate on my own? Andra Gal bought this ship ten years ago second-hand from a Cardassian trader; I was able to inspect the full documentation. I do indeed ask myself what you were doing while I verified those parameters."  
  
Äänekoski relented and moved off again. "You know exactly what I did. I built up three replicators from scratch as Starfleet seems unable to spare us a single mobile unit. Where do we put this?"  
  
"That is for you to say; the apparatus will have to be attached to the freighter's air system while simultaneously sustaining breathable air in this room. We're all meant to berth down in here together."  
  
"I know, I carried three mattresses down here already. In that corner."  
  
"You shouldn't try to gesture while carrying the crate; I know which corner you mean. Perhaps you should begin to instal the system so we have a working air supply when the ship is sealed."  
  
"Don't try giving me orders, Lieutenant; I know what I have to do without you telling me, thank you."  
  
"Then I will leave you to your typical human mood swings. Where's my logistics board?"  
  
Jukka-Pekka stopped the Vulcan by gripping his narrow wrist. "Suvuk, I'm sorry. It's just this situation is so grotesque. Three days agow we were speculating about the ZA drive, and now we're lugging crates. The logistics board was leaning on the left side of the loading ramp when I last saw it."  
  
They found themselves facing each other without breaking the touch or the faint mental connection, and experienced a moment of strange intimacy in the middle of all that bustle. Suvuk gazed at the Finn; in his black eyes, vast seas of calm composure seemed to be reflected. "In Vulcan philosophy, there is a principle commonly translated as *Mastery of the Unavoidable*. Perhaps I might acquaint you with the basics of these ideas during our travel."  
  
*Anything that brings you closer to me is welcome, dear friend; even Vulcan philosophy*, Äänekoski mused. Suvuk lifted an eyebrow. Of course, through the residuary mind link he had heard the thought as clearly as if the human had spoken it aloud. Embarrassment flooded him.  
  
*The basics of Vulcan philosophy might certainly help you to control your illogical emotional reaction toward me*, Suvuk answered with genuine kindness.  
  
An energetic female voice from behind broke their intimacy. "Stop holding hands and get on with loading our supplies." That was Dr. Pulaski entering the room with two heavy carrying cases. She was a high ranking Strafleet doctor assigned to help establishing a public health system on Bajor. She was just as cranky and outspoken as most Starfleet doctors, and Äänekoski was very glad to have her aboard.  
  
"*Holding hands* does not describe our activity very accurately," Suvuk answered her firmly. "We are communicating telepathically about issues concerning our forthcoming journey."  
  
"Communicate as much as you want, but please do carry a few crates while you do", the doctor said, shaking her head.  
  
"Aye, Sir", Äänekoski replied somewhat saucily. Suvuk shoved him in the side, pushing him from the room. *Illogical to start a quarrel with her; we need her.*  
  
Outside the ship they found the logistics board beside the ramp and begun going through checklists together. "I have requested much more extensive technical equipment then initially planned," Suvuk commented. "I trust that with its help you will be able to effectively combat any eventual malfunctions."  
  
"Oh, that reminds me," Äänekoski said. By his sleeve, he pulled Suvuk in a corner, out of the general bustle. "There's something you should know. I organised three dilithium crystals and some magnetically contained antimatter from the station technicians on the sly; well, to be totally honest, I won it off them at poker while you were verifying your parameters. I put it in a small aluminum case with my personal stuff; I don't want anyone else to know, or Andra will insist he needs them immediately."  
  
Suvuk checked some squares on his logistics board. "That was good thinking, Lieutenant. However, I believe you should really begin installing the auxiliary air system while I go through our supplies for the last time." He nudged Jukka-Pekka towards the ship and turned to the equipment still piled outside the ramp.  
  
Äänekoski had almost finished installing the air system when the freighter's enignes started. The other Starfleet technician, an African named Johnny Mandela (he came from an old family of politicians and suffered somewhat from this fact) was busy getting the second replicator up and running while Dr. Pulaski was assembling a small emergency medical station in one corner of the room.  
  
Suvuk enterd the cargo bay and calmly asked for attention. "We will leave the docking bay in five point two minutes and are scheduled to complete our voyage to Bajor within three standard days. Those travelling on to Deep Space Nine will be collected by a station runabout from Bajor. Everything you might need is ready for you in this room; furthermore, I am to tell you from Captain Andra that (quote) he doesn't want half the Federation hanging out on his bridge while he's thrying to fly this bucket (unquote), so if you need to communicate anything, please do so via Lieutenant Äänekoski or me. In any case, it would be inappropriate to turn up on the bridge in larger groups, as it is no larger than a medium size sehlat stall; additionally, the intraship communication system is only barely functional, so we will use our own communications array in this room, into which our com badges will be tied so they remain activated. All in all it is not advisable to leave the area assigned to us. Thank you."  
  
_Translation! *Mä odotan sua* means *I'm waiting for you*; to use the appropriate polite form, Äänekoski should have said *teitä* instead of *sua*.  
  
Durning the subspace call to the science editor, Suvuk says: *I am sure everything will finally work out; don't be afraid, Lieutenant. The editor is a bit stubborn, but that will soon blow over. Just wait a few minutes.*  
  
After trying the salmiakkikossu, the Vulcan says *Uskomattomasti hirveää = incredibly awful*; I refuse to translate the names Äänekoski calls the *Intrepid* crew, though. Suvuk's answer on this is simply *Niin = that's right*._ 


	5. Chapter 5

Suvuk and Äänekoski were sitting on their mattresses, facing each other and talking about the history of the Vulcan ideal of Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combination, when the freighter suddenly lurched to a full stop, the inertial dampeners barely able to compensate.  
  
As if on order, chaos broke out in cargo bay four where all those Starfleet officers, used to acting quickly in a crisis, found themselves stymied by the fact that there was nothing for them to do right now, while the civilians were panicking outright.  
  
Suvuk rose unhurriedly. "Silence!", he bellowed into the hubub. Everyone quietened immediately with astonishment to hear the Vulcan actually shout. "Panic is illogical; we are merely passengers on the Bajoran captain's freighter, and he does wish us not to interfere with running the ship. Please stay calm."  
  
All eyes turned to him, and something resembling calm indeed descended. Behind him, Suvuk heard the Finn's voice say, "Lieutenant Suvuk and I will deal with the situation, if there is a situation. Maybe it was just the propulsion system giving up its ghost, but perhaps we are really being attacked. I will check out the engine room while the Lieutenant will contact the bridge. We'll tell you if we need help; please keep yourselves at the ready. Dr. Pulaski, it might be a good idea if you switched on your instruments just in case. Thank you."  
  
Suvuk had no other option than to follow Äänekoski from the room. "Astonishing, Lieutenant; you seem indeed to have acquired the ability to think logically. However, this does not from my point of view give you the right to give orders to me", he hissed at the human as they were jogging up the ramp to the central walkway.  
  
"Your diatribe didn't help much, Lieutenant; they want to see action. Although I doubt it was much more than the antimatter converter hickuping a little. Tell me as soon as you know anything."  
  
With this, the Finn dived into an opening leading down to the engines while Suvuk ran up the stairs to the bridge, if it could be called that. The installations were so amazingly primitive that actual windows encircling the tiny space and forming a cupola above it were used for an outside view. The captain sat on a swivel chair from which he could reach all the instruments. There were some screens for additional information, and he was staring intently into one of those. "Damn, no!", he shouted in Cardassian into a microphone he had pulled towards him, "I will not, surrender, Gul Adak! You can shove your warrant where the sun don't shine, we are in Federation space here!"  
  
"Indeed, do you think?", a voice hissed from a speaker. "Tell me, then, where is your Federation?"  
  
A new hit shook the ship. Suvuk tapped his com badge. "Lieutenant, we are being attacked by Cardassians. Come to the bridge."  
  
"The dilithium crystal was fractured by the impact; the antimatter converter is stuttering, too", came the answer from the engine room.  
  
"Call Mandela to deal with that; I need you here", Suvuk replied curtly.  
  
"Ensign Mandela, you find a small aluminum case among my things; take it and bring it to the engine room and do what's neccessary there. Dr. Pulaski, please send someone to collect the miserable Catellan, he is injured. Tulen, Suvuk. Ne vitun Kardassialaiset avaruusrosvot!"  
  
"On the contrary, it is a ship of the regular Cardassian forces, and their commander is a veritable Gul. Don't swear, Lieutenant, and come here."  
  
"I'm there already", Äänekoski said behind him. Captain Andra Gal had been negotiating with the attackers all through the exchange, but the ship was hit again. "Shield down to 83 percent", a neutral computer voice announced.  
  
"S'Kanuk, ready torpedoes", Andra shouted into the intraship mic.  
  
"Most illogical", Suvuk interrupted. "Trying to defend this ship would be futile even under normal circumstances; in addition, your companion is presently underway to our improvised infirmary. Let me talk to the Gul." He squeezed into the narrow command station, took the microphone from Andra and pulled it towards him.  
  
"Gul Adak", he said in Federation standard, "this is Lieutenant Suvuk from Starfleet, science deparment. Aboard the *Millenial Falcon* there are twelve Starfleet officers and civilian Federation employees. This freighter is carrying official passenger to Bajor, and any aggression from your side will be condered an act of war by the Federation."  
  
"The Captain of this ship is a criminal wanted by Cardassian authorities, a know terrorist and smuggler. You should have checked beforehand who you hitched a lift with", the Cardassian snapped in the same language.  
  
"Will you call off your attack if I were to take command of this vessel?"  
  
"Surrender to me, and you won't be harmed. The criminal and his accomplice however will be arrested, and the ship will be seized."  
  
Again, the Cardassians' phaser hit the *Millenial Falcon* head on. "Shields at 65 percent", the computer announced. "Mandela, route all energy to the shields", Suvuk ordered, handing back the microphone to Andra. "Captain, keep talking. Whatever happens, keep talking."  
  
He turned towards Äänekoski. There was nobody he'd rather have had at his side in this situation.  
  
"Luutnantti, mulla on a'atus. Tunnetko ton avaruusalustyypin?"  
  
"Erittäin hyvin. Se on cardassialainen *galor*-luokan sotaalus".  
  
"Selvä. Mä puhun cardassiaa, sä tunnet aluksen tekniikan. Me voidaan katkaista aluksen".  
  
"Mitä?"  
  
"Piggybacking our signal on the Captain's useless parlaying, we contact the Cardie computer, cause a fuse to short out and so shut down all systems", Suvuk answered, still in Finnish. "What do you think is their weakest point?"  
  
"Weapons control; they got too many weapons. You're using informal speech."  
  
"Fewer syllables. Access, code, suggestions?"  
  
"Try three zeroes, that means packet is destined for the computer."  
  
Suvuk's fingers danced over the communications concole. "Got it, trying login to their shipboard systems."  
  
"What does this mean?"  
  
"The Cardie computer wants an access code."  
  
"Three ones, three zeroes, three ones, or the other way round. Cardies are into threes."  
  
"Simple." A warning klaxon came from the bridge speakers.  
  
"What now?", Äänekoski groaned.  
  
"We have no time to lose, they'll discover us any moment. Allow me."  
  
Suvuk bent down over the Finn squatting in front of the computer console and put his fingers on the correct points of his face. Contact came easily, as if from long practice. He let go, and still the connection held.  
  
*Let us try three times three ones. Right, we're in. Weapon Systems. Stop, he's firing again. That was a broadside.* "Captain, keep talking!" *Go on. Invert phasers. Of course the security system won't allow that, but it keeps the computer busy. We need a code to cancel and confirm the command at the same time, then it'll crash. Infinite loop. Should work, confirm now.*  
  
The Falcon was hit by a photon torpedo, and all consoles erupted in sparks. Suvuk and Äänekoski were thrown against the navigation controls, and the mental link broke.  
  
Suvuk freed himself from the Finn's motionless body and lurched towards the computer again. Just one tap. Confirm. Blue sparks chased over the console. Confirm. Like this.  
  
The console exploded, and a a flying shard buried itself in Suvuk's arm. The electric discharge threw him backwards, the back of his head hit a metallic object with a thundering clang, and he sank into bottomless blackness.  
  
When Jukka-Pekka came to, for a moment he didn't know what had happened. Stars were passing overhead, and somthing soft and heavy was lying across his chest. Warm liquid was trickling onto his shoulder. He tried to move. The weight was holding him down as in a nightmare. Desperately, he freed himself from it and dazedly sat up. Across his chest and shoulders, his uniform was stained by some green liquid; at least it wasn't blood. Blood! For heaven's sake, green blood! Suvuk! His memory returned in a flash: Suvuk, the ship, the Cardassians...  
  
Beside him lay the motionles shape of the Vulcan, like a discarded rag doll. Emerald blood was seeping from a wound in the short black hair, from another injury on the inside of his left elbow. Äänekoski shook his good arm; no reaction. He leaned down; weak, irregular breathing. At least he was alive.  
  
He tried pulling Suvuk up into a sitting posture, but collided with an object moving to his right. "Get out of my way, I'm busy. The Cardies won't play dead forever."  
  
Captain Andra Gal. "We got their computer to crash and shorted their systems; they'll be a while. Help me to get this Vulcan to sickbay."  
  
"Man, your Vulcan is the least of my worries. I need to fly a ship that's three quarters done for. Get lost."  
  
"Painu helvetiin", Äänekoski murmured. By a sheer act of will he freed his mind from the numbness just to discover he had the most earsplitting headache. Never mind.  
  
He pulled Suvuk away from the swivel chair's range and propped his back up against the wall. A splinter of console glass was embedded in his left arm. Jukka-Pekka pulled out the shard, which was followed by a spurt of green blood, discolouring Suvuk's blue uniform sleeve. Voi itku! Obviously, Vulcan anatomy put an artery in that place as well. He tore the bloody sleeve off at the shoulder and pulled it down. The wound looked very bad. He folded the sleeve and pressed it on the injury to stop the bleeding. Then he tapped his com badge with his free hand.  
  
"Dr. Pulaski, Suvuk is severly injured. Send me someone to help me bring him down to you."  
  
"Acknowledged", came the more-than-curt reply.  
  
The Finn sat down beside the end of the stairs leading up to the command station, pulling the unconscious body up against his shoulder. With is left hand he held on to the imrovised tourniquet and pressed for his life, worse even, for Suvuk's life. The Vulcan's head hung over his right shoulder, green blood seeped from the head injury, invisibly, into the black shoulder piece of his uniform, and into the yellow fabric of his sleeve like spilled ink. With his free right hand he gently caressed Suvuk's cheek and temple. The touch, dreamed of for so long, now gave no satisfaction to himself, was just meant to strenghten Suvuk's spirits, to make him hang on. "Suvuk, mun rakas, sä et saa kuolla. Mä en anna sulle kuolla", he murmured to the motionless figure.  
  
Steps rang on the metal stairs leading up to the command station. A red-headed man in a yellow Starfleet uniform with whom he'd never even spoken a word turned up from below.  
  
"Take his legs, and I'll lift him by his shoulders. Slowly, carefully, I have to keep pressure on his arm."  
  
Gently they carried Suvuk down the stairs, through the walkway, then down the ramp into cargo bay four. On the improvised medical bed was a brown furry creature. The miserable Catellan.  
  
The doctor quickly adjusted one of her feinbergers and came towrds the two humans carrying the Vulcan between them. "Put him on that mattress."  
  
A short humming. "I'm sorry, he will have to wait. Just a slight concussion, and the two external injuries. If we stop the bleeding he'll be all right after a short healing trance."  
  
She went back to the Catellan and adjusted another gadget affixed to S'Kanuk's body. "With him it's a different story. His neck is broken; if I don't treat him at once, he'll die."  
  
"If you don't treat Suvuk at once, he'll bleed to death."  
  
"Oh no, he won't. Vulcans have a much lower blood pressure than humans; they hardly ever bleed to death. Keep applying pressure, you're doing just fine. Just hold on to your friend and let me do my work."  
  
Äänekoski was opening his mouth for an angry retort, but then thought the better of it. Pulaski was one of the best doctors in Starfleet; the fact that they were sending her to Bajor was another proof of how important the planet was to the Federation. Illogical to contradict such an expert in her own area.  
  
He sat down on Dr. Pulaski's mattress beside Suvuk and pulled him into his arms again, just like he'd done on the bridge. His left hand clamped down on Suvuk's elbow, pressing the soaking sleeve against the bleeding artery; his right hand a wrapped around the motionless body, just holding him, caressing his hands, his face.  
  
He felt the daze descending on his own mind again; he was hit worse than he liked to admit and couldn't quite ignore it any longer. He leaned his cheek against Suvuk's neck and closed his eyes. How warm he was, and how hard the muscles in his neck under the soft skin. Where his neck connected to the back of his head there was a hollow, soft and vulnerable. He touched it carefully with his lips, kissing it gently, brushing his lips against it.  
  
Something was stirring in his mind; confusion, disorientation. Suvuk was coming to and took up the connection broken when Jukka-Pekka had passed out.  
  
"Hello, Suvuk. We made it. You're safe", he breathed, comfortingly touching the Vulcans shoulder. "You're with me."  
  
Suvuk gave a low, helpless moan, dropping his head onto the human's arm, snuggling up against him. Weakly, he lifted his right hand, gripping Jukka-Pekka's wrist.  
  
The human bent down to him, brushing his lips over his neck again. Through the mental link, he was reassuring his friend with feelings of tenderness, warmth, closeness; love. Suvuk calmed down, was held, safe in his arms. He pulled the human's hand that he was still gripping towards his face, pressed his lips on the inside of his wrist. Jukka-Pekka put his face against the Vulcan's neck once more, kissed the tendons, the sensitive spot between them at the nape of his neck. A dazed contentment flowed into his mind from Suvuk's, and astonishment at the gentle emotions he had never felt before. Not even in pon farr. There had only ever been the icy void of non-feeling for him, mastery and suppression of everything kind and gently inside him, beyond the range of pain, and further out than any Vulcan had ever gone before.  
  
*This is over now, my Suvuk. No pain now. You are with me, and everything will be fine.* He pulled the Vulcan even closer, kissed him behind the ear, and then on the warm, velvety tip of his ear in a perfect moment of tenderness and comfort.  
  
But now a new sharpness welled into their joined consciousness, negating, refusing. The contact broke utterly. Suvuk shook himself free, fought Äänekoski off, forcing him to let go, apart from the hand still pressing the torn-off sleeve to his injury. The Vulcan tried to stand, ripped his arm from the human's grip and clawed at the metal bulkhead, slowly, painfully gaining his feet. Blood dripped over his arm and from his hand onto the mattress.  
  
Jukka-Pekka jumped up in one swift, dizzying movement and tried to catch hold of the arm again to stay the blood. "What are you doing? How dare you? Desist, let go of me", the Vulcan gasped.  
  
"Suvuk, your arm...the blood", he stammered. Suvuk looked down on himself, ripped the sleeve out of Jukka-Pekka's grip and perfunctorily held it against his wound himself. His knees gave in; Äänekoski caught him, trying to help him stand. Suvuk swatted his hand aside like an annoying insect.  
  
"Your behaviour towards me is highly inappropriate; you are showing no respect for what I am. Go and see to your engines."  
  
From the other side, Dr. Pulaski took hold of the Vulcan's shoulder and energetically pulled him towards the examination table. "Your turn, lie down there. Your little lovers' quarrel can wait until later. Äänekoski, you'd best do what he said and take care of the engine room; you'd just be in the way here. Don't stand there like a sinking pudding, I need the space."  
  
As if all feeling had suddenly died inside him, he wandered off; and when the propulsion system was working flawlessly again, he went to the bridge with Mandela to instal some new terminals instead of those that had exploded or shorted out. When all the work was done, he locked himself in the head and cried helplessly, vomiting bile with dizzyness and concussion, venting his rejected emotions.  
  
When he finally returned to cargo bay four, Suvuk's possessions had vanished from their place beside his mattress, and the Vulcan was lying on a cot near the improvised medical station, beside the Catellan and in Dr. Pulaski's reach, and was already in a healing trance he wouldn't merge from for the rest of the voyage to Bajor. Jukka-Pekka lay down on his mattress and was declared pale as a sheet and diagnosed with a mild concussion by Dr. Pulaski, who gave him a sedative that sent him far away from the disgusting reality.  
  
_Translation! . While hurrying to the bridge, Äänekoski says, *I am coming, Suvuk. Those damn Cardassian space pirates.*  
  
Their dialogue before crashing the Cardassian computer translates as:  
  
Suvuk: *Lieutenant, I have an idea. Do you know this type of ship?*  
  
JP: *Thoroughly. It's a Cardassian Galor class warship.*  
  
Suvuk: *Fine. I know Cardassian, you know the ship's technology. We can switch the vessel off.*  
  
JP: *What??*  
  
About this dialogue we have to note that Suvuk not only uses informal pronouns and verb forms, but also a much more colloquial style of Finnish than before when he always spoke Finnish precisely as it is written, while Jukka-Pekka used colloquial terms. Saving syllables, and thus time, can of course be a logical reason for this stylistic shift.  
  
After the attack has been repelled, Äänekoski tells the the Bajoran captain to *painu helvetiin - go to hell*; and after he pulled out the shard, he says *Voi itku - What a pity*; this is a euphemism for a much stronger term and contains a connotation of sadness or regret, as it literally means, *Oh, for crying*. To the unconscious Suvuk he says, still on the command station, *Suvuk, my love, you can't die! I won't let you die!* 


	6. Chapter 6

It seemed the Federation wanted to know everything about everything; their culture was young enough to still adhere to the illusion that anything *could* be known. Even Bajoran toddlers knew that the spirit counted, not the amount of information processed, stored or gained. But those prophet-forsaken Cardassians had left the ancient Bajor with no other choice but to become dependent on Starfleet, and so the Bajoran ensign Andra Laz had to spend a sizeable amount of his time transmitting redundant scientific data to Memory Prime, the central computer data base and archive of the Federation. For hours on end, the completely irrelevant details of some extremely repetetive measurements traversed his communications console en route to a series of communication relay stations and, finally, those insatiable memory banks from which they would never emerge again. Ensign Andra had heard rumours that in those giantic computer systems, independent virtual entities called pathfinders correlated the information that was incessantly piped into their mass storage; they would perhaps enjoy the data for a few nanoseconds the way you enjoyed a flower by the wayside while you were hurrying somewhere else. Other than that, there was no use for it that Laz could imagine.  
  
He turned to the workstation on his left which he used to transfer some Federation encryption programs to his sister Adarys, who was working for the provisional Government of Bajor and had the exhausting task of providing every village on the Northern Continent with its own public comm station. After she'd listened all days to the elders from Cowpad 2 whining and arguing that they were utterly independent from Cowpad 1 and absolutely had to have their own comm, despite the fact that the other village was just a cow's tail away, she really needed something light and funny to relax. He typed a sarcastic comment into the console and turned right again to see the data for Memory Prime still painting long streaks on the monitor, marking the nervewrackingly slow progress into subspace. Of course he wasn't exactly supposed to transmit private messages while he was formally on duty; but even those federated children couldn't expect their deputy communications officer to let himself be bored to death on the job, plus, of course, it was Adarys he was sending the stuff to, Adarys who'd think nothing of spending the nights after her tiresome workdays decyphering Cardassian messages that nobody else could make head or tail of.  
  
His third terminal beeped in its usual, nerve-jarringly Cardassian way. Ensign Andra swivelled over to accept the following message:  
  
"Delayed Federation personnel arrived aboard freighter *Millenial Falcon* at Marak I. space port, asking to be collected by a station runabout. End message."  
  
Andra Laz couldn't suppress a giggle. Those pitiable spoilt Federation brats had doubtlessly been given a rough ride by his impossible cousin. And Marak was a crummy freighter port on the North Continent not at all equipped for handling passengers; small wonder those people whined for a runabout. How typical of Gal not to change his route by an inch for anybody whosoever; from any larger port they could have taken a shuttle to the station, but Captain Andra Gal of course had to unload his junk at Marak. Of course he'd made them pay through the nose, and had made them work, and had gotten them to instal lots of newfangled Federation technology in his sorry bucket of bolts.  
  
The console in the middle had finished its transmission and asked coolly for in-depth information to certain datasets; those miserable pathfinders never got enough. In addition, the third terminal completed the transfer as well, and Adarys herself, returned from her thankless comm net users, answered in blinking capital letters: YOU MADE THIS UP, DIDN'T YOU? NOT EVEN THE VULCANS COULD INVENT SOMETHING THIS USELESSLY NEAT.  
  
With three fast gestures, he contacted Major Kira in Odo's office because of those Starfleet people, relayed the patfinders' request to the science section, and asked Adarys to wait a moment.  
  
"Additional data follows", Lieutenant Dax announced; Adarys commeted, WE'RE SO IMPORTANT TODAY; AREN'T WE?, and Major Kira asked him to wait. He sent the renewed streams of data into subspace, confirmed that he was waiting and turned to Adarys again to elucidate on the uselessness of those Federation codes. Just when his sister lost interest and began ribbing him about his newest love affair that had ended in stalemate, as usual, Major Kira came back to him and saved him from his sister. "Ensign, take the *Rio Grande* and collect the Starfleet people yourself; we're officers, not a private transport service, and we've got enough problems of our own as it is. Kira out." He confirmed the order and told Adarys "Coming over myself; meet me in half an hour at Mark I.", and logged out of the terminal on his right. He notified Marak that a runabout was on its way, and cut that connection as well. He called for relief to monitor the data flowing into subspace, hoping they wouldn't fall asleep on the job; and when a shy, mousy-faced young woman in a grey Bajoran uniform arrived hurriedly to take over, he went on his way, glad to escape from ops.  
  
Kira and Odo were in the constable's office, facing an an extremely agitated Arcturan merchant who claimed that O'Brien had tried to sabotage his ship. He seemed absolutely unwilling to calm down and was uttering exotic threats in his roughshod grammar. Some misplaced Starfleet personnel needing to be rescued from Marak was about the last thing she could use, unless...  
  
"I just received a message that a Starfleet technician specialising in alien technologies is due to arrive at the station; if you'd just wait for an hour, he'll certainly be able to get your ship up and running, but we've really got more pressing matters on our hands."  
  
"Not alien my ship", the Arcturan grumbled, retreating.  
  
Kira called the *Rio Grande* from Odo's console. "Hurry up, ensign; we need the technician you're going to bring."  
  
"Confirmed", the ensign answered confidently, and Kira and Odo were finally free to return to the problem about the Cardassian security codes.  
  
Andra Adarys was a person who silently commented on everything she saw, kept her counsel and then disgorged her collected witticism at her brother in the most unsuitable situation. These Starfleet officers made excellent raw material for that.  
  
She leaned in a corner of the hangar where they waited for the arrival of the runabout; she'd manhandled her atmosphere glider ruthlessly enough to take only twenty minutes to reach Marak. She noticed immediately that those people had had a lot of difficultities on their way here. Gal was already gone when she arrived; she'd have to ask him for particulars on this haul the next time she met him. Fedration personnel was usually well-balanced and polite towards each other, whereas this lot was obviously not on speaking terms among parts of themselves. After five minutes she'd isolated one pole of the tension in the only non-Terran of the group, a tall, skinny Vulcan with a long face, a pointed chin and surprisingly beautiful eyes who stood in a corner on his own, was occasionally spoken to and gave only the curtest of answers instead of starting a conversation. When Laz hadn't arrived eight minutes over the appointed time, she began searching for the Vulcan's adversary among the humans and located that person in a medium height blond male with a broad grin talking shop with a tall, muscular black man. The three minutes that remained until her brother finally landed she whiled away by deepening her observations. The Vulcan exhibited an arrogance she would have taken for an unmistakeable sign of insecurity in a Bajoran or Human. The pointy-eared ones were elitist in any case; but this one needed to demonstrate his superiority to all and sundry, which was suspicious. He was weird in any case. Instead of the square Vulcan bangs they all usually wore, he kept his hair shorn very closely, creating the effect of a black cat's fur. He seemed to use the expressionless severity of his face to belie the beauty of his impressive dark eyes which constantly smouldered against his grave stance. He wasn't just cool and logical but actively hostile. When the runabout came at last, a middle-aged blond woman said goodbye to him. He nodded at her and turned to go, but she tried to place a conciliatory remark she referred with a wave of her hand to the blond male. On this, the Vulcan just waved his weirdly spread-out right hand the way the pointy-ears do, and marched in long strides through the rain towards the runabout. The woman angrily stared at his retreating back and called after him, "Suvuk, don't forget you're only mortal, after all!" Laz, who was getting out of the runabout, hastily stepped aside when the Vulcan boarded so unerringly as if nobody else was present.  
  
A few steps through the drizzle brought Adarys to her brother. "Now tell me why-", she began, but Laz interrupted.  
  
"I have to go back at once. What are you planning to do tonight?"  
  
"Nothing. Why?"  
  
"When I come back, I go off duty; if you want to, I can take you to DS9, and we can have a drink at Quark's."  
  
"Hm", Adarys considered. "I can take the shuttle back, but then my colleague will have to collect the glider. She passes Marak on the ground shuttle anyway; it won't be a bother for her to get it. I hope she isn't going to park it in ditch again, though. Put your passengers aboard while I transmit today's codes to her, okay?"  
  
Underway to DS9, while her brother piloted the runabout, Adarys once more contemplated the almost tangible tension within the group. Both of the opponents readily noticed all of the others while stubbornly ignoring each other. The blond man stared out of the front window, his glance passing the Vulcan's head by two inches with unwavering control as to keep it from landing on that nonexistent object, while old pointy ears held his neck very stiff as if to repel any notice from behind. As she could see the only the back of the Vulcan's head, Adarys concentrated her observations on the human.  
  
Adarys boasted some abilities that could be called uncanny, and were always extremely elusive. Every time one of her hunches was confirmed by subsequent information, she took it as a personal triumph. As a former member of the Bajoran underground she claimed to be able to see at a glance where a person's political loyalties lay; and as a the sister of a gay brother she spotted immediately whether somebody was gay or staight. The blond man, an impressive but no way exceptional specimen equipped with the appropriate quantities of eyes, hair, arms and legs, and the usual smooth and expressionless human nose, seemed to hold no particular political views, obviously under the pretext that only his work counted for him. And he was just as obviously gay. If he'd tried to make a pass at the Vulcan aboard Millenial Falcon that would constitute sufficient cause for the animosities. And if he'd tried to make a pass at the Vulcan, any Vulcan, he was certainly somewhat unbalanced mentally, as nobody with well-adjusted self esteem went to a Vulcan to get himself snubbed. And if he was that sort of a difficult case, her brother would certainly become interested in him, because good old Laz had somewhat of a season ticket for that problematic type. Doubtlessly he could use some more balance in his own pagh. Adarys decided to warn her brother against the blond human when they finally got to that drink at Quark's; that way they could spare themselves another round of the same.  
  
On DS9, the new arrivals were greeted by some of the officers. Laz logged his return, went off duty at the same go, and took her down to the promenade. But when they entered Quark's some small, slimy Ferengi sneakily fondled Adarys' behind and mumbled something about wonderfully ample forms and voloptuous women, which made her so angry the difficult blond guy and arrogant pointy-ears instantaneously dropped to the deepest reachest of her memory, not to emerge for a very long time.  
  
O'Brien was much less than happy. He'd waited for the new arrivals at the shuttle bay to intercept the new technician and send him to upper pylon three, where the Acturan ship was docked; but the red-haired ensign in a gold Starfleet uniform he met first was security and didn't know of anything. "I think you must be looking for Lieutenant Aneski or whatever his outlandish name is; the blond-haired one over there", he said and went on his way.  
  
Lieutenant. What the hell did Starfleet think by sending a fully-fledged Lieutenant when the Chief of Operations was only an ensign? O'Brien couldn't fathom their logic. The man was to work for him; so how in blazes was he supposed to give orders to someone who outranked him? And if everything had to happen at once, which was the rule on DS9, he didn't have the time to politely ask the damn Lieutenant each and every time if he could please do this or that for him. And if he gave the Lieutenant free rein, the efficiency of operations would doubtlessly suffer; furthermore, he was the damn chief here, and responsible for any technology going on aboard the station. And with a view to the decrepit state the station insisted in staying in he didn't have the time to waste on questions of rank and protocol, of all things. This man was the specialist for alien ships and Cardassian junk, and he was a damn Lieutenant. It wasn't fair.  
  
Disgruntled, O'Brien turned to the blond human when he passed him. "Excuse me, I hear you're the new technician."  
  
The Lieuteant grinned at him enthusiastically, although a bit tiredly. "And you're the chief, I see. What can I do for you? Did someone throw their exotic junk at your feet and demand you overhaul it at once?"  
  
"An Arcturan, ah, Sir."  
  
"Arcturan ships on principle have to stop for spare parts more often than for refuelling. And don't call me sir; you're the chief here. You tell me what to do, and I do it. That's what I'm here for. Where is the ship?"  
  
"Upper pylon three. What am I to call you, Sir?"  
  
"Name's Äänekoski."  
  
"?"  
  
"Forget it. Call me JP, or Lieutenant, or whatever you want as long as I know you mean me. Is the guiding system Cardassian or Federation equipment?"  
  
"Cardassian, unfortunately. I never had the time or the parts to exchange such a non-essential system."  
  
"No problem; I can cope with that. I hear you're Irish."  
  
"Miles O'Brien, Sir, ah..."  
  
"Call me Sir if you prefer that; I don't mind either way. I don't intend to curry favours, but is there a bar on this station?"  
  
"Quark's, on the promenade."  
  
"A Ferengi. Interesting. For the right price he'll coax stout or salmiakkikossu from his replicators. D'you think we could meet there after the shift, and you tell me the basics about this station?"  
  
"After the shift won't work; we're always on duty here when we aren't actually sleeping. Just tell me when you're through with the Arcturan. It will be a pleasure to tell a knowledgeable fellow about all the misfeatures of this Cardassian heap of junk. The others don't want to hear about it any more. I was told your speciality were alien ships, though, Lieutenant."  
  
"Any alien technology, and if nothing's coming, I'll work with what we have here. I won't sit around doing exactly nothing while you're "always on duty", chief."  
  
"I have to go down here. You'll find the guidance console over there. See you later. Oh yes, and welcome to Deep Space Nine."  
  
"See you, chief."  
  
O'Brien took the turbo lift back to the core, well content with his excellent new colleague.  
  
Dax wasn't so lucky. She'd known Suvuk's work for years and was looking forward to having such an eminent scientist on the station. She idly waited for him at the shuttle bay as all the computers in the science section had been busy for hours ordering data that was to be sent to Memory Prime, and she didn't have anything else to do. She recognised Suvuk at once, as he was the only Vulcan among the new arrivals and would be, in fact, the only Vulcan on the station. Even when she was still Curzon she'd heard rumours that the scientist was a renegade against the Vulcan ways, divorced from the traditions and conventions of his homeworld, and she hoped for a less formal and complicated collaboration with him than she would have to expect with an ordinary Vulcan.  
  
Lieuteant Suvuk was last to leave the shuttle. She intercepted him without committing the mistake of trying to shake his hand or otherwise touch him. "Welcome to Deep Space Nine. I'm Jadzia Dax, science officer of the station, and this is already the second life in which I'm interstedly following all your publications. I'm looking forward to working with you."  
  
Suvuk lifted his hand for the Vulcan salute. "Peace and long life, Lieutenant. You're a Trill, I see. I have done some work on your culture several years ago; your concept of individuality is absolutely remarkable. But that is not what I am here for. I am on an assignment to search for traces of a spacefaring cetacean civilisation, and will only marginally be concerned with the day-to-day processes of your department. It would be inappropriate to talk of cooperation in that context. I merely request of you the use of a fully equipped science console with access to all relevant databases so I can start my work without delay."  
  
What an arrogant little fellow. "But I suppose you will need my assistance in evaluating our data; I know where to find things, and what we have here, and can spare you a lot of fruitless searching."  
  
"I know what you have here. If I were merely interested in your data, I could have stayed at the academy. I will gather my own data and evaluate material from ships returning through the wormhole. I do not intend to impede your activities in any way":  
  
"Lieutenant, you won't be an impediment. I am at your service with all my experience; I am looking forward to discussing your views with you":  
  
"Thank you, I am quite able to deal with all that myself. If you could assign me an office with the aformentioned science console, I will leave you to your doubtlessly pressing work."  
  
Who the hell did the little twerp think he was?! "Lieutenant, I was a scientist when your grandmother wasn't even born; you can trust my abilities."  
  
"You know nothing about my grandmother. I will go and find my quarters and afterwards report to your station so you can assign me my office."  
  
With that, he simply went away. Dax stared after him, speechlessly, while the metaphorical green fumes came from her ears. Why, by all the lives of her old soul, did the best scientists always have to be such - cranks?! 


	7. Chapter 7

Work, Jukka-Pekka soon found out, was the only possible antidote against emotional pain; and there was so much work to be had on DS9 that he could easily avoid descending into the true abyss of depression more than once or twice a day.  
  
Forgetting Suvuk, on the other hand, was impossible. Everyone kept talking and complaining about the élitist Vulcan; when you sat down in Quark's or in the Replimat, you could expect some Starfleet personnel to sit gossiping about "pesky old pointy-ears" at the table next to you. And they kept getting new incidents to gossip about all the time, too. Hearing people talk, Jukka-Pekka had soon realized that his unwilling beloved was behaving completely irrationally. He kept demanding standards a Cardassian Gul wouldn't get fulfilled if he used torture. People said that after the third time he had turned up in Commander Sisko's office to complain about the "unacceptable irregularities" in station operations, he was seen crawling through the service tubes himself, three reels of cable under his arms and four different coupling tools between his teeth, as both the technical and the scientific personnel had refused his ourageously perfectionist demands. And after three weeks on the station, when Jukka-Pekka had just finished translating the Cardassian visitor guidance system in addition to his normal duties (he didn't replace it, as he rather liked the style), Suvuk had finally dug himself in, in some sort of service closet on the upper level of the Promenade which he had filled with infinite amounts of computing equipment he kept busy around the clock, correlating the most diverse and arcane data to be found on the station.  
  
One night while sitting in the Klingon restaurant, Äänekoski overheard Lieutenant Dax and Major Kira complaining extensively about the Vulcan.  
  
"That man is unbelievable", the Bajoran stormed. "You know, Jadzia, nobody can tell any more into how many systems on the station he has wired his console. He just watches everything we do aboard the station like a paluko waiting for its prey. I don't think any of that is connected with whales!"  
  
"He's just searching blindly; that's a valid scientific method. All incoming data from the gamma quadrant passes his machines at some point, also everything my computer is running. I have no idea what he's actually looking for, though, He doesn't talk to anyone".  
  
"He does. The other day, when that Orion slave transport almost crashed here, I found him at Quark's afterwards, and Quark complained that old pointy-ears had sat in his bar for three hours, ordered nothing and kept his best customers from drinking. He was sitting in a corner with three Klingons and was talking to them in Klingon, and hadn't even noticed we'd all been nearly blown to our atoms. Quark said he even gets information out of a Ferengi without paying. And when that drunken Orion started getting ugly, he just up and went away".  
  
The Klingon owner of the restaurant began to sing. His deep bass drowned out the conversation on the neighbouring table, so Äänekoski got up to go.  
  
Kira stopped him. "Lieutenant, you're the one who translated the Cardassian guidance system, aren't you?"  
  
Jukka-Pekka turned to her. "Yes, sir".  
  
"Why didn't you just replace the infernal thing, as was done with the more essential systems?"  
  
"It was working flawlessly, Sir; it just wasn't comprehensible".  
  
"Don't keep saying 'sir' to me, it won't help you", Kira hissed. "Why, may I ask you, did you translate the system into Federation standard only and not into Bajoran? This is a Bajoran space station, and all other systems are running bilingually".  
  
"Those are the systems that were installed by Starfleet personnel, sir, and..."  
  
The Klingon interrupted his aria. "Hey, you. You can talk shop when you're on duty. When I'm singing, you either listen to me or I kick you out".  
  
Jukka-Pekka used this welcome interruption to escape.  
  
In the Replimat Suvuk sat with some Bajoran monks and listened earnestly to their lore, so Jukka-Pekka turned around immediately and continued his escape into Quark's, where he sat for a while with O'Brien at a table on the upper level, talking about work until the Irishman declared he had to go home. If he wanted, though, he could get himself some Bajoran with whom he could once more translate the vistor guidance system. It he found one who wasn't completely overworked as it were; in the technical department at least there weren't any, but good luck.  
  
Alone at his table, Jukka-Pekka idly glanced around the fascinating diversity in the room. Morn sat equanimously at the bar, behind which Quark's brother Rom was bustling hectically; all around were a Cardassian, Klingons, Humans, Bajorans, Bolians, Ferengi and one Vulcan who looked in for a moment, apparently didn't find what he was looking for, and went away again. Jukka-Pekka looked after him, feeling his mood blackening towards fullblown lovesickness, and ordered a beer and a lapinpysti from the next passing Ferengi.  
  
"What did he do to you? He accused me of sleeping on duty and only talking to my sister when awake instead of transmitting his damn data. Of course Major Kira didn't want to hear anything about it and sent him to where the mirs-berries grow".  
  
Äänekoski looked up and saw a young and rather handsome Bajoran man in a grey uniform, blond, lanky and with a noticeably dimpled chin. A Bajoran in a grey uniform. Just what he'd been looking for.  
  
"Sit down", he said. Wanting to continue the conversation without condeming Suvuk (demonstratively pretending to dislike him was a cheap way out of his pain he had decided not to take under any circumstances), Jukka-Pekka, to his own astonishment, ended up rather close to the truth. "He didn't do anything to me. In fact, I fear I did something to him, and I think it may be partially my fault that he's behaving so antisocially".  
  
"Oh, then you must be the other Lieutenant who chartered my cousin's ship with him. Sorry, I'm Ensign Andra Laz".  
  
"I'd hoped never to hear the name of Andra again, but I'm sure you're innocent. You're the one who collected us from Marak where your cousin dumped us, aren't you?"  
  
"Right. My cousin's impossible. So am I, by the way, but on a different level".  
  
Äänekoski had to laugh. The little Bajoran promised to be a charming distraction. "My name's Jukka-Pekka Äänekoski, but you can call me JP; they all do".  
  
"What's so difficult about the name Jukka-Pekka Äänekoski? I'm communications; I'm used to all sorts of strange Extrabajoran names. What planet are you from?"  
  
"From Earth, from a weird coutry called Suomi, or Finland".  
  
The Ferengi returned with the beer and the lapinpysti, and Andra Laz was mightily asonished. "He forgot to shake your drink, it seems".  
  
Jukka-Pekka laughed again. This felt better! "It's just as it's supposed to be; took long enough until Quark knew how to do them. The transparent liquid on top is vodka, and the layer under it is some very sweet liqueur; Quark uses that sticky purple Aldebaran stuff, it's just about right. You pour equal quantities of the one onto the other and drink it in one gulp. Thus you get the full dose of alcohol without the burn. Finnish speciality".  
  
He demonstrated, and Andra Laz watched him fascinatedly. "Two more Lapinpysti, and another beer", Jukka-Pekka ordered from the next Ferengi.  
  
Five lapinpysti later Andra Laz grew rather affectionate, and Jukka-Pekka, no longer sober himself, enjoyed the uncomplicated distraction. In the habitat ring, however, the Bajoran decidedly staggered his own way, to Jukka-Pekka's surprise. He wasn't that uncomplicated after all, then. Well. If the lad needed a little campaign to conquer him, so be it; all the better the distraction.  
  
The next morning they met for breakfast in the Replimat and began planning the Bajoran version of the visitor guidance system. Andra Laz, it seemed, spoke Cardassian very well and found some mistakes in the existing standard version. "I learned all my Cardassian from Suvuk during one single mind meld", Jukka-Pekka admitted. Andra Laz stared, but didn't ask any further questions.  
  
Personally or professionally, Suvuk had never harboured misgivings against any manifestation of an offwold culture; but in the last few weeks he had observed himself to develop a definite aversion towards the Cardassians. This station, situated at such an eminently important position for the Federation, was a six-horned nightmare that made him wonder why it didn't simply lose structural integrity, considering the stresses and abuses it was exposed to every day. The Cardassian misconstruction was bad enough to start with (why didn't Starfleet just build a standard issue station here and blew the Cardassian desaster to countless very small smithereens, whatever smithereens actually were), but the laxity and arbitrariness with which Starfleet and Bajorans alike were administering this post was exremely deplorable.  
  
Engineering was fully occupied by hunting down the newest malfunctions and found themselves unable to initiate any productive processes; they kept reacting feverishly to overcome the defects as they showed up, utterly failing to act one step ahead of their equipment as they should. And, considering the protocols of the last few months before their arrival, the presence of the miserable Finn hadn't changed the sitution by one iota. The whole stations was suffering from what was called, after an old Earth legend, "Jurassic Park Syndrome". The Starfleet technichian who'd repaired Suvuk's recycling unit had put in a very fitting colloquial nutshell by saying, "The frigging place is nothing but a testing ground for Murphy's law".  
  
The recyling unit hadn't been the very worst, though. The worst had been the Cardassian voles who'd gnawed through his network just after he'd completed installation. Suvuk didn't quite understand why those pests had been nicknamed 'voles'; they rather resembled, huge, hairless rats with six legs and large, revolting ears. Suvuk, as a Vulcan, had been brought up to respect all life forms; even a lematya only wanted to live according to its instincts. This tolerance he had even extended towards the Terran pests called cockroaches upon which he'd happened in San Francisco. But when he woke up one morning to find two of these so-called voles gnawing his very pillow, he had grabbed them in horror and hurled them against the wall. They slid down in a slimy track of grey-purplish blood, but Suvuk hadn't waited to see them reach the floor; he threw over the nearest robe, stormed to his office and spent the whole day hunting down the deplorable beings and installing small force fields in all service shafts leading to his office to keep them away.  
  
In the evening, he'd taken a bucket with a dozen dead voles or so to the biology lab to put into the decontamination unit; and that impertinent little hedgehog-faced doctor who was lurking there had mockingly addressed him as "great vole-hunter" and suggested he continue his heroic undertaking and free the whole station from those pests; that way he'd do something useful for a change. Well, Dr. Bashir was rather besotted with Jadzia Dax, and the Trill had never ceased pestering Suvuk about his work; and she kept reacting extremely emotionally on not receiving a reply to her annoying questions; doubtlessly she had influenced to Doctor against him. Suvuk had emptied his bucket into the decontamination unit without comment and retreated to his quarters.  
  
There, the two 'voles' he had destroyed in the morning had had twelve hours to decompose at Vulcan room temperature and were emitting a piercingly unpleasant odour. Calling upon his self-discipline, Suvuk had calmly conveyed the two carcasses into the recycling unit and cleaned the wall and the floor from their decaying blood. But when he tried to put the tissue he'd used into recycling as well, the unit was leaking a slimy, greyish-brown substance that reminded Suvuk of the excretions from a sick sehlat. Very probably the recycling of such contaminated substances was not included in the refuse system's working specifications; so Suvuk summoned some hidden reserves of control, calmly scratched the semi-liquid remains from the unit and its environs and took the vessel containing it and the tissue he'd used once more to the biology lab and its more powerful decontamination unit.  
  
On the way there, Dax had stopped him and asked what he was carrying so carefully; and against his usual habit, he'd lifted the layer of tissue off the bowl to show her. When the smell entered her nose, she reacted with a series of short retching noises and hurriedly turned away. He wouldn't have thought that such an old Trill would be disturbed by a substance that merely resembled a sehlat's diarrhea, but he'd overestimated her control.  
  
In the biology lab, the young, round-eyed doctor pounced on him, screeching, "What did you do to my decontamination unit?!", as this was emitting the same abominable substance.  
  
For the next few days it had been neccessary to keep all refuse in buckets, intensifying the station's similarity to a garbage dump. And all the personnel had given Suvuk reproachful looks during those days, until the second replacement communications officer, chatting again with his sister while on duty, had heard from her that there had been some old Bajoran computer virus intended to make life miserable for the Cardassian occupation force on the station. For some reason, it hadn't gone off as planned. She'd sneaked the program in herself, but the people who'd written it were all dead, as far as she knew, and she had no idea how they'd gone about. Luckily, O'Brien had been able to isolate and neutralise the damage after that. But why the 'voles' had triggered the virus neither O'Brien nor the Bajoran woman had been able to explain. It was Murphy's law, as the technician who'd reinitiated Suvuk's decontamination unit had correctly remarked.  
  
When disquieting energy losses occured shortly afterwards, they had been traced to somewhere around the Promenade; and everyone had blamed Suvuk and his improvised network. But what was he to do when O'Brien declared that maybe he'd find the time to wire his station in three weeks' time? By all the craters of T'Khut, he needed to work now and not in three weeks' time! And of course, they had to send Äänekoski to check on the energy conduits that led to his network. Without a word, the Finn had gotten to work, and Suvuk had fled from his office. In Quark's he found nobody worthwhile to talk to, so he ordered a mineral water, sat down on an ancient Romulan(!) gambling machine, and started winning. The Ferengi assured him desperately that this was impossible. He'd bought the machine only last week at a bargain price from a...  
  
Suvuk had pocketed his winnings and returned to his office. He pulled the Finn, who seemed to be reconfiguring the whole network, from a service hatch and wordlessly took him into Quark's, sitting him down on the offending machine. And indeed, the Ferengi cheat in the Romulan antique had been the cause of those mysterious energy drains.  
  
Unfortunately, Äänekoski had not left his network in working order; and as the improvements the Finn had begun implementing were technologically too complicated even for Suvuk, ha had to suffer him in his office for three more evenings after the Lieutenant's shift was over. At least the human did not again attempt to insinuate himself upon Suvuk. But the Vulcan couldn't endure his presence; while Äänekoski cursed the computers in Finnish, Suvuk went to ops and tried exchanging some data with the pathfinders on Memory Prime, which was extremely tiresome owing to the convoluted interface protocols. And then, of course, there was that second replacement communications officer lounging at his station beside Suvuk, talking to his sister on the northern continent in the most dreadful Bajoran slang about men and computers. Suvuk needed immense control not to lose his composure and behave in an un-Vulcan way when he had to listen to the utter banality with which the Bajoran discussed his problems with men in general and in particular, while he found himself completely unable to deal with his painful emotions about just one man.  
  
So, he had complained to Major Kira about the Ensign's private use of station equipment, but to no avail whatsoever. Kira seemed to regard the controlled Vulcan as a legitmate target for her Bajoran temper anyway, and her voice had risen more than usual while explaining the usefulness of Andra Adarys' informal involvement in station business. She and her brother could talk about men and computers as much as they wanted as long as there was time if they talked about whatever was neccessary most in a crunch. Or did the Vulcan object to sitting beside a man interested in other men? Well, this was a Bajoran station, and the Bajoran culture had always maintained...  
  
Suvuk had fled again. What with Andra Laz at the communications console and Äänekoski in his office he had retreated into Quark's, but as the Ferengi seemed to have no other nefarious projects going on just now, so he'd pounced on Suvuk and tried to press all sorts of services on him. When repeated rounds of "Vulcans don't drink alcohol" and "Vulcans don't use any holo installations" had remained without avail, he'd finally gone and found some peace in the Klingon restaturant, listening to the proprietor's singing and discussing Klingon opera with him long after closing time.  
  
He got on very well with sober Klingons, Suvuk realised once more. All the other station personnel, official and civilian alike, seemed to experience some difficulties with the Vulcan way of living and working. Keiko O'Brien, for example. She'd actually had the nerve to ask him if he could spare the time to explain the basics of Vulcan philosophy to the kids at her school, as if she couldn't see that he indeed had more than enough to do. And that unctuous Cardassian with his shamelessly expensive tailor's shop who kept trying to sell him allegedly Vulcan robes. Seemingly, this Garak had some suspicious sort of soft spot for the utterly clueless and naive young doctor. This made him try and regard the Vulcan as his own kind and pull him down to his own deplorable level, as he, shadow creeper and all-purpose spy that he was, had once observed Suvuk and Äänekosi meeting unawares in the Replimat and simultaneously turning on their heels.  
  
Suvuk refrained from comment, but in the privacy of his own mind he could find no similarity between a bored Cardassian half-heartedly fishing for a distraction and a tortured Vulcan mere weeks away from the next bout of pon farr, plagued by the memory of just a few moments of forbidden gentleness and closeness; the comparison was positively offensive. And yes, he was still tortured by that brief, stolen emotion of tenderness and belonging. Not for a long, long time he had felt so accepted by anyone as in those days of complicity or even friendship with Äänekoski; and he'd never experienced anything like the moment when he came to in Jukka-Pekka's arms after the Cardassian attack. He'd never been loved before.  
  
But he was not to have all that; he'd denied himself anything of that sort long ago, when in that corridor at the cybernetics institute in ShiKahr...  
  
No point in thinking of that, either. But every time he saw the Finn, he remembered the churned-up emotions of his concussed soul, remebered rejecting a wonderful man a deeply repressed part of him had wanted, whom he even needed, as his slowly rising hormone level kept suggesting, and who definitely wanted him right back.  
  
But it was morning; and calmly Suvuk went to the replimat to get his breakfast. Nobody would be able to see through his controlled facade and discover the sadness, the longing and the anger raging beneath, almost uncontrollable now. Only concentration upon his work was now able to silence what Äänekoski's closeness aboard Millenial Falcon had woken in him.  
  
He avoided a gesturing grey elbow, noticing that it belonged to the irresponsible Bajoran communications Ensign. Having joined the breakfast queue, he turned back and realised with a jolt that Andra Laz was sitting at a table with none other than Jukka-Pekka Äänekoski, discussing some diagrams and flirting with his eyes.  
  
Theoretically, Suvuk had heard that among humans and other such species there was an emotion called jealousy. But while love was a real temptation to his Vulcan control, jealousy was to him an exotic phenomenon he only knew from reports. Still, he correctly identified the emotion that unstoppably raged through him at this moment, breaking down all his barriers and spreading over him like a stun field as said jealousy. Seeing Jukka-Pekka with another in this way, and the Bajoran Ensign of all people, was unbearable. His imagination was all but overpowered by the wish to attack Andra Laz with a lirpa and chop him up into many very small pieces. He found himself unable to continue with whatever he'd done before, and could barely contain the urge to pounce on that table and throw the Ensign off - whatever he needed to be thrown off from.  
  
People queued up before the replicators shoved at him, and an importunate glance settled on him like a large, buzzing insect. Over there, three tables away, Garak was having breakfast with Dr. Bashir and grinning at the Vulcan with such slimy understanding as any Cardassian could muster. The good doctor, completely consumed by his own importance, as usually noticed nothing whatsoever.  
  
Suvuk reliquished his place in the breakfast queue and took flight; but in turing he suddenly met the enquiring smile in Jukka-Pekka's eyes. Shoved out of the breakfast queue by a hung-over Klingon, he stumbled awkwardly onto the Finn who grabbed his wrist and so broke his fall. Their inexplicable telepathic connection had survived their estrangement without a dent, and now whispered to him, I am still there for you, Suvuk, if you need me. Suvuk broke loose and hissed, low enough for only Äänekoski to hear, "You have no idea, Lieutenant. Get out of my life!"  
  
"Mulla on niin paljon oikeutta tässä asemassa olemista kun teillä, tai ennemän, kun mä oon hyödyllinen ja te ette!", Äänekoski answered, loud and scornful, incredibly hurt by this new rejection. He had seen with his own eyes what happened to Suvuk when he saw him sitting here with Laz...  
  
The connection was still holding! Forcibly, Suvuk tore loose his mind and fled, using all the external calm he could still muster (not much) to reach the refuge of his office.  
  
But there a new and completely different problem was waiting for him. In the half darkness in front of his closed door, a small, quietly crying life form with two black braids was cowering before the most gigantic Cardassian vole he'd ever seen.  
  
Whatever his misgivings against emotional involvement, Suvuk fully shared the attention and respect any Vulcan showed towards children. In an eyeblink, Suvuk grabbed the 'vole' and threw it over the railing to the lower level, where it was greeted by piercing screams. The human child remained crouched down, crying louder "I want my mommy" and "Atashi no oka-chan ga hoshii da". Obviously the O'Briens' little daughter. Whatever she was doing here.  
  
Suvuk gently picked up the small creature. It pressed itself against him, sobbing; the child's primitive, overpowering emotions invaded him through the touch.  
  
All anger was forgotten; Äänekoski simply vanished from his mind. With his Vulcan discipline he contained the child's terror, gently pressed it down and carefully pushed it out of his conschiousness. The little girl loosened her grip, looked Suvuk in the eyes and asked, "Burukanjin-san, atashi no oka-chan wa doko da no?" Suvuk smiled, indeed, smiled at her, and gently put her on her own feet. "Shite imasen yo", he answered. "Mimashô ka?"  
  
"Hai, mimashô", she answered earnestly. Suvuk extended two fingers to her, which she took, and together they went down the stairs to the Promenade and Odo's office.  
  
Extremely astonished glances were following them, but Suvuk's concentration was solely with the child. Vulcans would not comfort their children emotionally, of course; after an unpleasant occurence they would teach the child how to logically deal with it. Suvuk now followed exactly this pattern, although he spoke Japanese. He explained in simple words to the small creature how all wild animals were afraid of intelligent life forms and that a human or Vulcan was stronger than a wild animal when controlling his or her fear. If she met such a wild animal again, she shouldn't crouch down but stand as tall as she could and shout out loud so the animal would take fear and run away, or at least not harm her until help arrived. If she was quiet, nobody would hear her, and if she made herself small, the animal would think she was just a small animal herself. Wasn't that logical to her? "Hai, burukanjin-san", she anwered seriously. Suvuk smiled at this title, and was still smiling when they arrived in the Constable's office.  
  
Quark was there, whining loudly about somebody having thrown a life vole at him and one of his dabo girls. "You have much more massive security problems here, Constable", Suvuk interrupted the Ferengi. "There are wild animals on this station that have now taken to attacking small children. You should try and contain the pests before they harm anyone. This small person was actually threatened by one such so-called vole".  
  
"Pest control is not part of my duties, unless the pests walk on two legs" - a short glance at Quark - "but lost children are, as long as everything else is quiet", Odo remarked drily. "Well, little lady, let us try and page your mom, shall we?"  
  
This, however, proved to be unneccessary, as now an upset Keiko O'Brien stormed into the security office, a crying, about thirteen-year-old Bajoran girl, obviously the babysitter, in tow. Emotions welling over upon seeing her child, she swept the small girl up into her arms and exclaimed, "Molly, you're not to run away and frighten your mommy like this!"  
  
Suvuk deplored this maternal reaction which effectively destroyed all his endeavours at sensible behaviour about the event, making Molly cry again, but he knew full well that his opinion wasn't called upon in this instance, and so he left the security office to finally start his work.  
  
Translation! Äänekoski says to Suvuk in the Replimat, "I've got the same right to be on this station as you, Lieutenant, or even more, as I'm useful and you aren't".  
  
Molly cries again in Japanese "I want my mommy", and then asks "Mr. Vulcan, where is my mommy", and Suvuk answers, "I don't know. Shall we look for her", upon which Molly replies, "Yes, let's look". After Suvuk's "lecture" she answers his question if that wasn't logical to her by saying "Yes, Mr. Vulcan". 


	8. Chapter 8

When Suvuk left the Replimat, a dampening quietness spread over everyone for a moment, while all eyes wandered over to Jukka-Pekka. Turning back to whatever they'd been doing before, the bustle and noise returned, perhaps even a bit louder, as everyone asked their neighbour what that had been about. Äänekoski noticed a strange, somewhat clinging grin from the Cardassian at Dr. Bashir's table, aimed at him like a secret message, so it was his turn now to ask himself what that was supposed to be about.  
  
"What was all that about", Ensign Andra Laz asked him, with a odd undertone in his voice suggesting he really didn't want to know. "I didn't know you spoke Vulcan".  
  
"That was Finnish, my native tongue from back on Earth. The Vulcan speaks all sorts of odd Earth languages, it's his hobby. But I really don't want to talk about him".  
  
Andra Laz seemed content with this answer, and energetically turned back to the guidance system diagrams, as if trying to dodge an inevitable certainty that would get at him sooner or later anyway, merely keeping it at bay by stalling for the time being.  
  
The next days Jukka-Pekka spent on an entertaining, although marginal, Laz hunt. There was an element in the young Bajoran's nature that reminded him a bit of a small, half-tamed animal; he was very affectionate most of the time, close and trusting; but whenever the Finn would make a move to secure his prey, he'd skillfully evade it. They were at present working in the same shift, so they could spend quite a lot of time together, from a DS9 perspective.  
  
Most of it was used for the visitor guidance system, though, and a basic introduction into Bajoran and Cardassian that Äänekoski got with it. But when they'd finished work for the day they always found a few moments together in a corner at Quark's, talking about themselves, holding hands or with their arms around each. On their way back to the habitat ring they might stop in some dark corner, kiss, let themselves grow tender or even passionate; but whenever Äänekoski thought he'd won at last, the Bajoran made his escape.  
  
And then there were those small gaps in understanding, this strange, deep cultural estrangement that sometimes touched Jukka-Pekka like a ghost. Although Laz told much of himself and honestly tried to understand Jukka-Pekka, there were a few moments when he completely refused his emotional presence. When the Finn finally, one night, told him about his former lover who'd been killed when the old U.S.S. Roddenberry was destroyed, Laz only answered with a long, helpless silence before freeing himself from Jukka-Pekka's arms and calling up the diagrams on their terminal.  
  
At this time, they had at least progressed far enough to sometimes work in Äänekoski's quarters; the Bajoran's quarters, however, remained strictly off-limit. Off-limit as well were many of his emotions and experiences. As the system finally neared completion, Jukka-Pekka again went out on a limb to ask Laz about his feelings towards death. Doubtlessly, as a Bajoran under Cardassian occupation he must have seen many things he couldn't forget.  
  
The answer was a curt report on some extremely unedifying circumstances, marked by an emotional distance and suffused with irrelevant detail. It almost seemed as if the Bajoran used his complaining to evade his original suffering.  
  
Jukka-Pekka reminded himself that he was facing a Bajoran, complete with earring and ridged nose; in some instances they would always remain strangers. Suvuk had taught him to respect diversity; and that included not only alien machinery, but all aspects of an alien culture; even such a psychological reaction was only part of that culture.  
  
Suddenly he wished for nothing more than to peaceably discuss all that with Suvuk; suddenly the little Bajoran at his side seemed very wrong; suddenly part of him wanted to throw Laz out of his quarters and his life and immediately go to Suvuk and do whatever he wanted if only the Vulcan would talk to him again.  
  
Immediately he felt ashamed of this pointless aversion towards the gentle young man in his arms who was completely innocent of anything; it was Jukka-Pekka after all who abused Laz as a mere distraction, and a strong reation in the opposite direction seemed the only way out. He had to tell Laz about Suvuk.  
  
But at once, before he even opened his mouth, he realised it wouldn't work; it would only hurt the Bajoran and drive him from his arms and from his life. So instead he tried with renewed energy to seduce Andra Laz, and, powered b his bad conscience, he was successful.  
  
"This calls for a celebration", Laz had declared the morning after they'd finished and installed the guidance system in an all-nighter. "I'm due on duty now, but if you meet me after shift at Quark's we can have some drinks with my sister; she comes to see me this evening. So I finally get to introduce you; she's terribly curious".  
  
So, Jukka-Pekka was now sitting in Quark's, waiting for the Andras, while all around him the diversity of the unverse was manifesting in astonishing scope.  
  
Rom was working behind the bar tonight, submitting to his guests' every wish with even more dishonest unctuousness than Quark usually displayed. Three more Ferengi were bustling through both levels on his orders while Quark stood in a dark corner and seemed to talk important business with an individual in a black cloak. Major Kira and Lieutenant Dax were leaning at the bar, obviously extremly amused about something behind them, while directly beside him Morn gave his usual silent attention to his drink.  
  
There wasn't much business at the dabo tables yet; only at the middle one a young Bajoran woman in security uniform was winning small sums, encouraged by her comrades, Bajoran and Starfleet alike, and sometimes eyed by Quark who suspiciously glanced around the large cloak of his business partner. A thin, nervous Andorian bargained with Rom about something and finally crept upstairs, hiding the access chip for a holo suite in his hand, his antennae shivering from anticipation or embarrassment.  
  
Three distinguished older Bajorans sat at the neighbouring table and seemed to wait for something indeterminate while quietly talking about nothing of importance. One table further out, a young humanoid in Starfleet uniform and of Asian descent sat holding hands with a a dark-skinned Bajoran civilian, whispering compliments to her. Apparently he needed some more practice, because suddenly she pushed his hand away, jumped up from her chair, hissed a malediction in Bajoran and rushed out of the door.  
  
There, she ran into someone entering the bar with the same energy as she used on her exit; someone who wasn't higher than her hip, so she stared down and jumped aside to make room for three such persons entering the bar, slipping out in their wake.  
  
The reason those persons were so far down wasn't that they were especially small; it was only that they walked, or rather ran, on all fours. They were three crew memebers from the newest ship that had come over from the gamma quadrant, from a species calling themselves Wianab. Four-legged, furred and with a humanoid head, they resembled the sphinxes from Terran myth. Their front paws they used, curled up, as feet as well as, opened, as hands. The Wianab were an energetic and boisterous species that seemd to regard the whole galaxy as one large adventure playground. The captain of their ship was said to have large red wings, and his first officer yellow ones, with which they'd actually flown about in ops. Äänekoski guessed that the winged Wianab must be their people's aristocracy.  
  
But these three were common crew members, two males and one female Wi, who had to stay on the ground; at least most of the time. With the usual energy, the female Wi now jumped right up onto the bar itself, shouting: "We want wine! At once!" A passing Ferengi waiter touched her well-shaped behind and murmured some slimy compliment about her soft fur, whereupon she quickly and deeply dug the claws of her right front paw into his bulging forehead. "Take your dirty fingers off me, you hairless rat, or I'll rip off those revolting soup-plates you call ears!"  
  
Her claws left now doubt that she was quite capable of doing so, which made the Ferengi retreat whiningly while the Wi's companions chirped admiringly in their own language. Quark emerged worriedly from behind that dark cloak to calm all concerned parties down, heaping abuse on Rom while at the same time leading the Wianab to a table in the far corner, with a good view on the dabo tables.  
  
The four-footed people somewhat awkwardly crouched on the chairs and began, giggling and chirping, to comment on present two-legged company whom they seemed to find intensely odd. They pointed at a Klingon woman and almost fell off their chairs with laughing, so she stood up, drew her dagger and went over to teach the Wianab some respect. Quark hurried over to prevent anything unpleasant from happening, but even before he could thread his way through the thickening crowd of dabo players, the opposing parties had found a truce among hissed curses, and the Klingon sat down with the Wianab and shouted: "Where's that wine, waiter!?"  
  
"Coming", Quark announced happily, turning around only to be recaptured by the his black-cloaked customer, which made Rom shoot out from behind the bar with a jar an four beakers as on cue.  
  
"Hi, we're over here", a slightly sarcastic voice now said directly beside Äänekoski's ear. He looked up to see Andra Laz, who'd come in unnoticed in all that confusion. Beside him stood a short, fat Bajoran woman clad in several layers of civilian clothing, of which especially a brownish violet crotcheted waistcoat in the top layer stood out by extreme shapelessness. "Hi, I'm Andra Adarys. Don't you like my waistcoat? My grandmother made it".  
  
"Ah, no", Jukka-Pekka answered, a bit confused by the suddenness of the address. Laz laughed and dropped a quick kiss on his lips before sitting down. Adarys sat opposite her brother and his new lover, regarding them for a while in earnest silent. She put her chin in her hands and declared to world at large, "Damn and blast, I knew I'd forgotten something important".  
  
Jukka-Pekka and Laz both mimed their astonishment at this remark, so she conceded an explanation. "I've seen you before. I was in that shuttle with you that brought you from Marak II".  
  
"Yes, I think I remember", Äänekoski answered, not quite fathoming why that should be important.  
  
Adarys nervously fingered her earring before deigning to continue. "I don't want to cast any aspersions on anyone here, but but there was that arrogant pointy-eared fellow, a Vulcan; that blonde woman called him by one of those standardised S-names I can never remember. Like Sarak or Siguk or soomething".  
  
"Suvuk", Äänekoski supplied darkly. He didn't all like the direction the conversation was taking.  
  
"To be honest", Adarys now heaved forth, "I was under the impressioin that there was some sort of tension between you and the Vulcan, and I kept my eyes open during that flight. It somehow looked like trouble, and I know that my dear little brother has a tendency towards troubled men".  
  
"Adarys, is that really neccessary", Laz interrupted, obviously embarrassed.  
  
"Yes. Well, to be honest, I wanted to warn him before he'd again get used as somebody's emotional dustbin or psychological stand-in, but I forgot because a Ferengi pinched me on the behind".  
  
"They always do that", Jukka-Pekka tried to distract her, feeling rather guilty.  
  
"I know. They're all swine. Well, if you turn out as charming as my brother says, everything is okay of course, but I'd really like to know how accurate my instincts were. So, what was that business with the Vulcan all about?"  
  
Laz looked extremely uncomfortable; it seemed he did not at all want to hear about Suvuk.  
  
"I don't like talking about that, for fear of going on and on", Jukka-Pekka answered, caught between Adarys' curiosity and her brother's discomfort. He didn't like that Bajoran woman's disquietingly accurate instincts too close to his affairs, either. "Really, it's all history in any case. I'd much rather hear a bit more about the damage you've done to the Cardassian computers during the occupation".  
  
That was enough of an encouragement to send off Adarys and Laz into a detailed shop talk that required no more from Jukka-Pekka than the occasional admiring commment.  
  
A male Wi had by now jumped onto one of the dabo tables, triumphantly waving a small gadget he'd dug out from the mechanism; obviously a cheat. The Bajorans that had used this table made some aggravated noises, so Quark pulled out from behind black cloak to hurriedly assure them that it was all no more than a misunderstanding, and the gadget was no more than a monitoring device. His own fault; why did he place the Wianab so close to the tables; Wianab were renowned for being extremely clever and quick on the uptake.  
  
The Klingon woman with the Wianab laughed out loud, so Quark intensified his endeavours to defuse the situation. Finally, the Wi sat down again with his companions, and the Bajoran dabo players left the bar in a huff. Idly, Äänekoski followed them with his eyes.  
  
Through them, as if they didn't exist, an individual marked by the brightly blue-green middle of his standard Starfleet shipboard uniform stepped into the bar. He still refused to wear the mostly black station uniform, as he wasn't part of the regular station personnel and needed to demonstrate that.  
  
He calmly went over to the Wianab's table, greeted them and the Klingon, and sat down with them. With the extreme politeness he tended to show towards the subjects of his investigations he picked up some object that had fallen from the table and handed it admiringly to the Klingon woman. She began to talk to him about it, and the female Wi chimed in. Consummate strategist that he was, Suvuk carefully and slowly shifted his attention to the Wi, and after exchanging some more sentences, the Wi jumped onto the table and began to sing a song in her own language.  
  
"You, I asked you how you managed to crash the Cardassians' computer from aboard the Falcon", Adarys' voice now invaded his attention. Suvuk had discreetly pulled out his tricorder and was recording the Wianab's song; and indeed, the long, dark tones of the refrain had some similarity whith whale song. It seemed he had found an actual trail.  
  
"You, Lieutenant Jukka-Pekka Äänekoski!", Adarys' voice insisted. "What happened? What is this charming music that has completely transfixed you?"  
  
She turned around, and, following the Finn's line of sight, discovered Suvuk at the table with the singing Wianab. "Oh yes, the pointy.eared fellow who was all history anyway. What was his name again? Suvuk?"  
  
As if his Vulcan hearing had picked up his name throught the loud, crowded bar, Suvuk's glance turned to the table where they sat. Feigning disinterest, his eyes glided over Äänekoski to fasten on Andra Laz. All research was forgotten, all pretense at diplomacy given up in an instant. He put his tricorder openly on the table, stood up and walked over in a few long, arrogant strides, almost toppling a Ferengi waiter's fully laden tray. Bewildered, the Wianab fell silent in mid-song.  
  
He stopped in front of Laz, crossed his arms and regarded the Bajoran down his nose. "Ensign, I completely fail to comprehend how you can be sitting here, demonstratively off duty, although I transferred a long document for subspace transmission to Memory Prime to your console only twenty-six point eight two minutes ago. I had ordered to you to notify me at once when the transmission was confirmed. As due to the extensive length of the document and the time delay in subspace a confirmation cannot be expected any earlier than roughly fourty-seven minutes after beginning transmission - I am really wondering what you are doing here!"  
  
This last sentence Suvuk hissed with such uncharacteristic sharpness and emphasis, Äänekoski got worried he was losing it. Secretly, though, he felt almost pleased: the only possible explanation for the Vulcan's wild behaviour was a raging, devouring jealousy against Andra Laz. He lifted his hand to touch Suvuk's wrist. Suvuk, you can really tell me more peacefully and privately that you love me. I love you, too.  
  
Irritatedly, Suvuk stepped aside. "Well, Ensign, what do you have to say to this?"  
  
"I was relieved", Laz tried to defend himself. "And I told my relief to send that confirmation of message received to your office as soon as it came".  
  
"So, my office? What is my office to do with it if I am here? I told you send the confirmation to me, and I meant that!"  
  
Adarys now stood up as well, put her hands on her ample hips and sidled in between the angry Vulcan and her brother. "Now, listen, Suvuk or whatever you want to be called. My brother's off duty, and what do you want with any confimation when you're busy listening to the four-legged one sing? But that's not the issue, aren't I right?"  
  
Suvuk wordlessly shoved her aside, blocking her with his back. With unexpected agility she slipped around the Vulcan and from the other side put herself once more between Suvuk and her brother.  
  
"Now, hold it there, pointy-ears! Just because my brother sits here with that miserable human you either deeply hate or desperately love, you don't have to order him around while he's off duty, as he rarely enough gets to be! Anyway, I always thought Vulcans didn't have any emotions!"  
  
"We just don't show them", Suvuk now deigned to answer her.  
  
"Well, you show yours damn clearly, no doubt about that", Adarys hooted.  
  
As if noticing only now how far and dangerously he'd let himself be pulled off track, Suvuk quickly returned to his original problem. "Ensign, if you don't want me to complain to Major Kira about you - again, you will at once contact your relief and relay my correct orders to them".  
  
"Well, and what are you going to tell me, Lieutenant? That a Bajoran officer dared not to stay on duty for all twenty-four of your unnerving Earth standard hours? Who do you think you are anyway? You get on everybody's nerves and afterwards have the gall to complain about it! Bajor had enough problems of its own before you came here!" Kira had came over from the bar and now threateningly stood right in front of Suvuk.  
  
Jukka-Pekka now stood up as well, emphatically reaching for Suvuk's wrist past the irate first officer. Stop that! You don't have to cause all this uproar for me; I'm there for you whenever you want me. Forget the Bajoran, and stop making a fool of yourself.  
  
Suvuk turned and stared at him, past Kira, while both Bajoran women continued berating him. Laz now got up as well, touched his comm badge and spoke a few sentences.  
  
"So. Done. You'll soon get beeped, Lieutenant. Is your problem solved now?"  
  
"Yes", Suvuk spat, tearing loose from Jukka-Pekka and storming out without getting his tricorder.  
  
"No", the Finn heard Adarys say before he jumped off, grabbing the tricorder on his way to following the Vulcan out.  
  
Jukka-Pekka had to run to match Suvuk's pace. The Vulcan cut through the Promenade throng as if they all weren't there, and Äänekoski, on his heels, had to squeeze through all the astonished clumps of people closing in his wake. From the corner of his eye he saw Odo stepping from his office and looking alarmedly after the two of them; but he was to busy not losing the Vulcan to spare an explanation for the security officer.  
  
They were only stopped in front of the Bajoran temple where just now a small group of zealots equal to Suvuk in their arrogance was leaving after some edifying experience. At first, they tried passing through each other; being in the same universe, however, this didn't work for either party, so the Bajorans resorted to aggresiveness, in which they were clearly superior to Suvuk. A tall, black-bearded Bajoran who looked like the wrath of God grabbed the Vulcan by his shoulders and shouted into his face: "This is a Bajoran station! It's bad enough you off-worlders are here at all, but disturbing our contemplation after a deep religious experience..."  
  
Suvuk tried to extricate himself from the Bajoran's grip, but was grabbed by some of his companions and shoved about some more. Alarmed, Äänekoski dug into the group to assist Suvuk, but only ended up in corner with the Vulcan, about to be taught Bajoran manners. The whole commotion vanished very suddenly when a quiet but commanding voice behind the crowd declared, "Ladies and gentlemen, you best end your righteous indignation right here, or you'll get to see quite a different institution on this station were you can calm down really slowly".  
  
The Bajorans resumed their religious stance and marched off. The shape-shifter took a step towards the two Starfleet officers and suspiciously asked, "What was that all about? Are you hurt?"  
  
Äänekoski quickly answered for both of them. "Just a few difficulties in getting through this crowd; too many people on the Promenade. No damage done":  
  
"How reassuring", Odo answered, stalking off after a last suspicious glance.  
  
So, they suddenly found themselves all alone in a corner besdie the entrance to the Bajoran temple. Suvuk gave weak signs of wanting to continue his flight, but allowed himself to be stopped by Äänekoski remarkably peacefully. He pulled his arm from the Finn's grip with a gesture signalling defeat; if a discussion was unavoidable, he could at least consent to it with some dignity.  
  
"Suvuk, we have to talk. You must see yourself that we can't go on like this. We both look like complete idiots, and, additionally, you are getting extremely unpopular. If you don't want anything to do with me in that sense, which I somehow can't believe any more, let us at least make peace and get on with our lives before they kick out both of us".  
  
"I do not remeber giving you the permission to address me in the informal mode of your language, and neither do I remember any hostile action between us. And my 'popularity' among any emotional life froms does not at all interest me, as you should know by now".  
  
"But you don't live alone in a cave from catching and frying bats, Suvuk, you live in a universe full of diverse life forms the study of which, if I remember correctly, you chose as your profession. I don't ask you be friends as we used to be, I just want you to stop acting like that so we can get on with what we came here to do".  
  
Suvuk's ramrod straight posture relented, and so did the formality of his Finnish. "I do not want to hamper you in continuing your life, your work and your - acquaintance with that irresponsible Bajoran Ensign. I only wish you did it all somehwere where I don't have to witness it all".  
  
"As I said, I got at least the same right to be here as you do, and concerning Andra Laz, he's certainly through with me after what happened tonight. And to be honest, I don't think that's for the worst. He was just a nice little distraction for me, and that makes me very sorry. I'm sure he's a great person and could be a wonderful friend if I'd given him the chance; he neither deserves my dishonesty nor your - intense dislike".  
  
Suvuk lifted an eyebrow, and a shadow of his old 'negative smile" wandered over his face. "I suspect I will never quite fathom the actions of emotional life forms. I have never shown any - dislike towards your Bajoran, only justified criticism towards his more-than-lax work ethics".  
  
"Suvuk, it was plain as the nose in your face that you were just stinking mad at me and horribly jealous of Laz. His sister has watched us in the shuttle on the way from Marak II and looked right through us even then. Aboard the Falcon I took your rejection as what it seemed to be, but now, after all that has happened..."  
  
"I will not discuss my personal affairs with you in public. As your typical human lack of control requires us to follow this to the very conclusion, I would suggest we continue our disputation in my office, only..."  
  
"Suvuk, I promise you I won't force myself upon you, and go away when you tell me to. If you're as honest with yourself as you Vulcans always claim you are, then you know that I would never do anything to you against your will".  
  
Suvuk stepped from the corner and went up the nearest stairs, followed by Jukka-Pekka. But at his door they were encountered yet another distraction. "Hello, Mr. Vulcan! Look what my daddy gave me!" The small creature extended an electronic pad towards Suvuk, who earnestly turned to Jukka-Pekka. "This is Molly O'Brien, the daughter of our chief of operations".  
  
"I know; the O'Briens sometimes invite me for dinner. Keiko O'Brien coaxes great sashimi from those miserable Cardassian replicators. She'd certainly get them to produce tofu for you if you'd let people come a bit closer".  
  
Suvuk reached behind and shortly touched Jukka-Pekka's wrist. Not now. Please. A child must always come first.  
  
Suvk took the pad and looked at it. Äänekoski looked over his shoulder and saw an illustration that showed Bajoran faces.  
  
"Fascinating", Suvuk said. "A book of Bajoran fairy tales. Bajroan fairy tales contain many wisdoms that can positively influence small persons like you".  
  
"What is po- ah..."  
  
"In a good way. But you have to consider that those stories are not literally true; they're just made-up stories from which you can learn what is good and bad for the Bajorans. Monsters like the firebiter don't really exist, and the good people always win. You don't have to be afraid".  
  
Molly didn't seem very interested in this lecture. "Mr. Vulcan, can you read to me? The book can read on its own, but it's much better when someone real tells it".  
  
Suvuk smiled. Äänekoski quickly looked again, but he actually smiled. "I have no time for that now, I am sorry. I know it's hard to understand for small persons like you that grown-ups always don't have time, but I have something important to talk about with the Lieutenant here".  
  
Molly seemed to notice him for the first time. "Is he your friend?", she asked guilelessly. "He's a friend of my daddy, too. Hi JP":  
  
Jukka-Pekka grinned into Suvuk's bewildered astonishment. "Shouldn't you be in bed at this time, little lady?"  
  
"Did you wander off again", Suvuk gratefully accepted his help. "I am honoured by your visit, but won't your parents miss you?"  
  
"My mommy is at a - confance on Bajor, and my daddy had to go and repair some damn Cardassian crap. He said, Taleel is going to come soon and I have to stay in bed, but she didn't come".  
  
Suvuk smiled again, and Äänekoski laughed, but the Vulcan silenced him with a touch. Never laugh at a child, or make fun of it. It will come to the conclusion that it isn't taken seriously, and develop an emotional reaction to that which it might keep for all its life.  
  
Touched by Suvuk's earnest thouroughness in dealing with the strange child, Jukka-Pekka controlled his impulse. He tipped at his comm badge.  
  
"Äänekoski to O'Brien".  
  
"What's broken now", the engineer acknoledged.  
  
"Nothing. It's just your little daughter loose on the Promenade. It seems her babysitter didn't turn up as planned".  
  
"Oh, damn. Lieutenant, can you watch her for ten minutes or so, then I'm through with this and come to get her".  
  
Suvuk nodded, and Jukka-Pekka answered the chief, "Of course. We're in Lieutenant Suvuk's office at the upper Promenade".  
  
If O'Brien was astonished by this, he didn't show it; but most likely he had too much to do to even notice anything out of the ordinary. "Thank you. O'Brien out".  
  
Suvuk coded open the door to his office, and they went in. "Can you now read to me, Mr. Vulcan?"  
  
Suvuk relented. He lifted Molly into the only chair in his tiny office and said "Plaese don't touch anything; I have many sensitive instruments here".  
  
Molly nodded. "Just like my daddy".  
  
"What story do you want to hear?"  
  
"One that is all new".  
  
"Do you know the story about the little girl and the mirs-berries?"  
  
"Yes".  
  
"And the one about Gar and the firebiter?"  
  
No. Read that, please".  
  
"Sounds dramatic", Jukka-Pekka objected.  
  
"It is an edifying and humourous story. Also, the human tendency to try and protect children from unpleasant knowledge isn't always appropriate. At some stage in their life they will have to face reality, and if they have been too sheltered before, they will feel cheated of the ideal world of their childhood, and show an undesirable emotional reaction".  
  
"I don't understand that. Read to me, Mr. Vulcan!"  
  
"My name is Suvuk, small person. I just explained to the Lieutenant how Vulcans treat their children. Sometime grown-ups have to talk about things children can't understand, and the children can only wait until its over and ask questions until they understand everthing. Be patient with us, Molly. If you're impatient, it'll only take longer until you've learned it all".  
  
"What is patient".  
  
"That you learn to wait until the others are finished without getting angry or starting to cry".  
  
Äänekoski laughed at this dialogue. "You'll make a Vulcan of her, Suvuk".  
  
"That is not my intention; I do respect her difference as a human. However, my own Vulcan education will not allow me to treat any child, even a human one, emotionally and irrationally".  
  
Molly didn't say anything during this exchange, just kicked her feet at the air. Jukka-Pekka took pity on her, although he would have loved to go on discussing Vulcan principles of education with Suvuk in their reawakened closeness. "Perhaps you should begin reading her story".  
  
"JP isn't patient either", Molly giggled.  
  
"He is human", Suvuk replied, carefully neutral. He sat on an inactive console and began to read the Bajoran fairy tale. He read more dramatically than Jaukka-Pekka would have expected, but of course he stayed completely calm even through the funniest passages of the story, so Molly laughed all the more.  
  
After some time, she slid off the chair and demanded to sit on Suvuk's lap and look at the pictures, and the Vulcan let her, much to Jukka-Pekka's astonishment.  
  
When finally the firebiter had its great entrance in the story, and Suvuk read "And then, a large violet firebiter rose from the ditch and said to Gar in a horrid voice...", Jukka-Pekka came to stand beside him and read with a hollow and hissing voice the extremly funny dialogue of the misguided monster. Molly giggled admiringly, and so he continued taking the firebiter's dialogue.  
  
At some stage, Suvuk's comm badge went off and began transmitting the comfimation from Memory Prime, but he silenced it with a tap and went on with the story.  
  
When O'Brien finally showed up, apologising profusely because of the delay, Molly refused to go with him. "Come on, Molly", the chief said, embarrassed. "I'll read the rest of the story to you at home".  
  
"But JP is a better firebiter; he does such a funny voice", Molly protested.  
  
O'Brien grew even more embarrassed. "Molly, you shouldn't do that. You can't disturb the Lieutenants for such a long time".  
  
Molly made a face as if starting to cry. "Molly", Suvuk said calmly. "Do you remember what I told you about patience? I have to talk about something important with Lieutenant Äänekoski. If you're patient, you can wait for the end of the story until another day when we have the time to read it to you; but I'm sure your father will do the firebiter's voice just as well".  
  
"I'll be patient. Daddy can read the story about the little girl and the mirs-berries again", Molly decided.  
  
"Thank you", O'Brien repeated. "Molly, say good night to the Lieutenants".  
  
"I can do that alone. Good night, JP. Good night, Suvuk", she said, walking off at her father's hand.  
  
Now he was finally alone with Suvuk, Äänekoski didn't know what to say. After their mutual easiness in front of the child he didn't want to return to the former intense confrontation.  
  
"It seems the conversation we should have had has been all but concluded 'between the lines' in the presence of the small person", Suvuk finally broke the silence.  
  
"Most of it. All that's missing is your explanation why you keep rejecting me if you so obviously want me, and if we fit together so harmoniously".  
  
"Between what I want and what my self-discipline allows me there is a distinct difference".  
  
Pity welling up in him, Jukka-Pekka took a step towards Suvuk and touched his wrist to let him feel his compassion. "Suvuk, you know this isn't about sex or something but about love, about belonging and the way we worked together on the way here and even tonight. I can do without any further demonstrations of my love as long as you want if only I get back your friendship and you stop opposing everyone and everything. I am only human, but I know about patience and control, too".  
  
"I don't doubt that. Our estrangement during the last weeks was as much due to my own lack of control as to yours. I wanted your closeness aboard the Falcon; but my conscious choice had to refuse what my emotions wanted. I am Vulcan".  
  
"But even Vulcans marry. Even Vulcans have friends and don't live alone in a vacuum".  
  
"I will not lecture you about the norms and standards of my culture. I can only request you to accept that just now your presence, even your sight, is intensely disquieting to me. I know full well that your love for me isn't driven by desires but by deep and honest care for me. So if you love me, leave me alone! When all this is over and I am once more fully in control of myself, we can redefine our relationship in an appropriate way, but please go now, and keep away from me".  
  
Hunched and miserable, Suvuk sat on his console. The hand Jukka-Pekka had touched moments ago was shivering.  
  
He didn't know what to say any more. An almost overwhelming instinct drove him to take the Vulcan in his arms and hold him and make him see that all this denial was so terribly unneccessary and illogical; but something in what Suvuk had said, and the respect for all things strange that Suvuk had taught him, kept him back. He found the strength to just answer. "I'll do what you want. I will be patient", and leave the room.  
  
On the stairs down to the Promenade he remembered Molly's story and the promise the Vulcan had made to her. He would never break it, no doubt because of the reason that this would be extremely bad for the child's development. As soon as Molly came to demand the rest of her story, Jukka-Pekka calmed himself, Suvuk would have call him back. Perhaps he'd even be past whatever was bothering him by then.  
  
Belatedly, Jukka-Pekka realised what exactly it was that was bothering Suvuk. That had been what made his acceptance of Suvuk's conditions possible at last. Suvuk had reached the point when his Vulcan nature was demanding its due, and he refused to give in to that phenomenon he seemed to have fought, unlike any other Vulcan, for all his life. At any other time he might gladly have accepted the Finn's company. He might even be able to love him afterwards, when he wasn't forced to any more. All was possible again, but care and respect were his best options in dealing with Suvuk just now.  
  
Of course the Andras weren't at Quark's any more, and when he reached his quarters he found an unmistakably angry message from the Bajoran on his terminal, declaring he never wanted to see him again; he really didn't need to be treated the way Jukka-Pekka had treated him.  
  
His first impulse was to send an apologetic and repentant message to Laz, but he didn't. Adarys had seen right through him and certainly lost no time explaining it all to her brother, with extreme prejudice and many exclamations on the line of "That swine!" 


	9. Chapter 9

"Well, can we get rid of him, that's all I'm asking", Major Kira countered her superior's considerations. "He seems to try how fast he can upset everyone on this station, from us to Garak or Quark. I don't need to know why he's here, I just want to see him go for good".  
  
Commander Sisko thought on this for a while. "I'm afraid not. I can't say I like him, but so far he's done nothing to break any actual Starfleet rule or regulation. He's just being as much of a pain in the neck as he can be while staying within the letter of the law".  
  
"But this is a Bajoran station, and we definitely....."  
  
"He is part and parcel of the Starfleet presence in this sector, which is what your government wished for. Until he does something actually reprehensible as concerns our actual laws, Lieutenant Suvuk stays, as much as I'd like to see him go, and that's the end of it".  
  
"Major, he did cause an upset on the promenade a few days ago, but I'm afraid that was as much his Bajoran opponents' fault as his. Are you telling me to watch a perfectly innocent member of Starfleet in the hope he will sooner or later perpetrate some sort of misdeed?"  
  
"Exactly. I want him gone, and this is the only way. He gets on everyone's nerves. Enough is enough", Major Kira almost hissed in her concentration to convince the shape-shifter.  
  
Odo laughed mirthlessly. "There are about a dozen people on my list before him. I am trying to catch Quark red-handed for ages, and I wouldn't object to finally catch Garak at it, whatever it may be. The Vulcan is harmless and unimportant in comparison, really".  
  
"But can you keep an eye on him? When you see him anyway? I tell you, he is a dire security risk, however indirect. Sooner or later someone is going to blow a fuse because of him, even if he stays all arrogant and cool. Prophets, how I hate his cool while he is about his business of upsetting everyone else!"  
  
"If you put it like that, Major, I will see what I can do. If I have the time. Which isn't often. But you can't just go about banning everyone you dislike. That is injustice, the Cardassian way. If only I could see the last of Quark, and yet....."  
  
"Lieutenant, no. Frankly, no. I am more than busy with my own work, and I don't care whether Starfleet protocol entitles you to this or that, I don't have the time beside my primary duties. If you had been a little bit more forthcoming at the beginning, I am sure things would be different. It is too late now, Suvuk".  
  
"Very well, Lieutenant. I will find the means elsewhere. As you are the science officer of this station, I expected the cooperation due to a visiting scientist to be extended toward myself, but I do take your point. However, be sure of my discommendation for your illogical and unbecoming conduct".  
  
"You can shove your discommendation wherever. Get stuffed! I have work to do".  
  
"Thank you, Lieutenant Dax", Suvuk said and left.  
  
"No, Nerys, he's past patience. I sent him packing just now, and I will use Curzon's old connections in the Fleet to have him sent to anywhere else but here. It'll take some time, but he'll have to go".  
  
"I've already talked to Odo, but he isn't too optimistic. He even talked about injustice towards old pointy ears, can you imagine that".  
  
Jadzia chuckled. "Injustice towards Suvuk would mean letting him stay here where sooner or later someone will do him grievous bodily harm. It will take a few months, but then he's history. Go on trying with Odo, but forget about him for now. Let's have another drink".  
  
"Stop lurking. Lieutenant. State your business or leave the infirmary, I have work to do".  
  
"Very well, Doctor. I shall do so. I have recorded your response on my tricorder, and will be able to prove your refusal of cooperation".  
  
"Prove whatever, you Vulcan nitpicker, just go!"  
  
"Jadzia, I just threw him out. As far as I'm concerned he could be mortally sick, but whatever he wanted to quote regulations for at me before telling me what is wrong, I don't care. If he comes and asks my help, I'm there for him, but not like that. I'm a doctor, I will help everyone, but I will not have read rules at me as if I did something wrong just by being there".  
  
"Speaking of the devil", Jadzia Dax said idly. "I wonder what he wants from Quark?"  
  
"Certainly, Sir. Certainly. Your request will be fulfilled with the utmost speed and discretion. Nothing is impossible if you just ask Quark. You have come to the right place. Here you will experience all the logical efficiency your race so much....."  
  
"Stop your inane chattering and just do it. You have my money, now act".  
  
"Very well, Sir. Shipped, not replicated, and within a week....", Quark whispered to Suvuk's quickly retreating back.  
  
"Lieutenant A., I don't know quite how to say it, but you seem to be the only one still on speaking terms with him, so there it is".  
  
"Who? Here's that wrench. What's this all about, Chief?".  
  
"Thank you. Hold the conduit, yes, that's it. Your Vulcan friend. He's off the deep end".  
  
"I'm not exactly, and he's not exactly, and off what end?"  
  
"People talk of wanting him gone, and there's something going on. I don't know, it's just something I heard Kira say to Dax. Tell him to mend his ways, or he'll really have outstayed his welcome".  
  
"Miles, I can't. I - just can't. Sorry. I'll try, though".  
  
"I know, Suvuk, I promised to stay away, but it seems things are really getting...."  
  
"You did. Please do so, Lieutenant. Thank you".  
  
It couldn't be true. Vulcans never did anything like it, and yet, here it was. Unauthorized access to the medical computer, stock lists, substance formulae, everything. Clear to see for anyone with eyes. If he did something like that, he could at least have concealed it better. He must be off his mind.  
  
"Bashir to Dax....."  
  
"Dax to Kira...."  
  
"Kira to Odo. Dr. Bashir just discovered that Lieutenant Suvuk has hacked into the infirmary computer, and accessed the replication formula to some totally off-limits substance. We can get him now".  
  
"Getting him. Hold on. I'll call you back".  
  
Odo fiddled his controls. "Computer. Locate Lieutenant Suvuk".  
  
"Lieutenant Suvuk is in Quark's bar, Promenade".  
  
"So, this little business of yours completed, you can accompany me to my office and try to explain everything. Starting with what you got from Quark just now".  
  
"It wasn't me, it wasn't me, don't be so unfair, Constable. I just passed him this letter from a passing Talaxian merchant. For a small fee. Please have mercy on me, I only did as...."  
  
"I don't want you this time, Quark. Not this time. This time, I want the Vulcan".  
  
"Odo to Kira. I have him. He received some substance from Quark, and I'm a Denebian slime devil if that stuff is legal. Come to my office, and we will see what we can do with him".  
  
"Kira to Sisko. Odo caught the Vulcan at it finally. Come to the security office, if you have a moment, and we'll get it all done".  
  
"Kira to Dax. If you come to Odo's office now, you'll see the haughty Vulcan humbled. It should be quite fun!"  
  
"Odo to Bashir. If you'd care to come to my office with your medical tricorder, I am sure we can soon conclude this business about Lieutenant Suvuk to the satisfaction of all of us".  
  
"Bashir to O'Brien. If you come to Odo's office now, you will see something noteworthy".  
  
Sisko was at his best menacing calm as he stood with Bashir, Dax and Kira behind Odo seated at his desk. A small package lay in the middle of all the electronic equipment. "As Dr. Bashir's medical tricorder informs us, this stuff is heroin, still one of the most forbidden substances within the Federation. What did you want with it."  
  
"Sir, if you'd care to look up Starfleet regulation number....."  
  
"Don't quote regulations at me! Out with it!"  
  
Suvuk put his shivering hands on the surface of Odo's desk. His head dropped, his shoulders shook, and he said not a word.  
  
"Out with it!"  
  
Suvuk murmured something.  
  
"Louder".  
  
"You will kill me, and within your rights, but I will stay silent. No! I will not speak! No! I will not...."  
  
"O'Brien to Lieutenant A.".  
  
"Is the conduit playing up again?"  
  
"No. Drop whatever you're doing, and come to Odo's office at once. I'm outside, and I think you are needed urgently". 


	10. Chapter 10

Jukka-Pekka didn't even think of Suvuk as he hurried towards the Promenade. The thing about the possible tinkering with the Cardassian energy conduits was foremost on his mind, and all he felt was a sense of triumph that the sneak had finally been captured. Now they only needed him to prove it, and then he would be able to really get on with his work.  
  
Absentmindedly, he pushed his way through the ubiquitous promenade throng. Quark was lurking behind a strut just two bulkheads removed from the entrance. Funny to think that the little toad had a stake in sabotage this time. He gave a smirk to the Ferengi, and was more than astonished when the barkeeper smiled back at his most slimy. "Yes, you go and worry him some more", Quark added merrily to his grin. "I can't say I approved of giving him a message, but of course, business is business. A customer is never a pain in the earlobes".  
  
Something about this suddenly worried Äänekoski. This wasn't what he'd expected. Worry whom? Who? Because of what? Something was wrong if Quark was so happy about it, and for the last meters, he ran. O'Brien wasn't waiting outside any more. He almost ran into the opening door in his sudden haste.  
  
Sisko said, "Lieutenant A., could you please come back at a later time", but that registered just as noise with Jukka-Pekka. They were all of them standing behind the desk like a firing squad of avenging angels, but he didn't care for that now, either. They could do all they wanted to him after he had done what he must. Everything fell into place now.  
  
The one standing before the desk, his back turned, not noticing Jukka-Pekka at the least, shoulders hunched, shaking, silent and submitting to his death by his silence, was Suvuk. There was only one thing to do.  
  
"Suvuk. My Suvuk. What are they doing to you? I am here. Give in. It is that easy".  
  
With this, he took the shaking, semi-conscious Vulcan in his arms, pressing him against himself while touching the bare nape of his neck with the other hand. Give it up. Give in. Come off it. I am here, I am yours, it is all over.  
  
Suvuk didn't move. Slowly, a stream of incoherent denial flowed through his mind, and he tried to shake off Jukka-Pekka's mental attention, tried to pull up his barriers once more, but it was pointless. In his state, he was wide open. His carefully polished logic and calm had fallen away, and his instincts had taken over. He leaned against Jukka-Pekka. There was relief. It was over.  
  
But, noooooooo---!  
  
As if he had taken new strength for his denial from the brief mental contact, he tried to pull away. His mind snapped shut. "You will leave me to my chosen course, and I will die as who I always was". His voice was calm, just as usual. The edginess of the last time was all gone.  
  
Jukka-Pekka wasn't deterred. There was no stopping him now. No chance for Suvuk to go through with pointlessly sacrificing his very life to his stubborn principles. He'd had it, as far as Jukka-Pekka was concerned. He could forget his silly control and live.  
  
Then he knew. There was no forcing him. It would have to be his own choice, his own last step. He stood back.  
  
"Suvuk", he said aloud, "just forget all about your silly pride and come to me. I will not force you. This is your life, and I am willing to be part of it to all my ability. I am here. Just jump".  
  
Suvuk looked at him as if he'd never quite understood what was going on until now, as if, behind all his self-inflicted suffering, he'd found himself again, and could make a decision freely. No forces now shaking him, inexorably pushing towards the inevitable, nothing. Just me here, you there, and if I take one step, I'll live as I always knew I should. Free.  
  
And then he took the step, and then he threw himself into Jukka-Pekka's arms, and he was there, and he'd done it, and all his controls finally broke down, and he cried wildly. Cried his eyes out in the arms of his chosen mate, in front of all the officers, in front of whoever, not caring any more, just giving in to what he really was, alive, loved, belonging.  
  
"What's this all about", someone murmured half-heartily, but they all really knew. Suvuk didn't care. He was himself now at last.  
  
Open, he was, wide open with all his mind, had been so for some eternal instants, Jukka-Pekka finally taking root where he should be in his mind. There. And there. A place it was, of rocks and red sand, as Suvuk showed it to him in their mingled minds, and a small spring behind an outcrop, and a few plants, and there they sat sown together, and would never go away again. Could never, should never, would never. This was theirs. This is ours, and here we will be, you and me, connected. Parted, but never parted, never and always touching and touched. One. Committed. Done.  
  
Emotions were there now as well. Relief first, a deeply buried need soon below, and then, only love. Whatever love was in the end, this was it. Tenderness. Belonging. Now never giving up, now facing the world together, now life, purely and simply, for each other, with each other. And relief again, and love, and then joy, jubilant, exultant. This is it now! This is what we will be together, shall be, must be.  
  
There was a world outside, waiting, expectant.  
  
First, there was Suvuk, in his arms, narrow shoulders under his hands, unexpected strength pulling him tight. Black shoulders, blue back, black legs shivering below, all that leaning against him, shivering, pressed into him, crying still. Head of black hair buried into his shoulder, one elegantly pointed ear sticking out behind. Yellowish brown neck, so fragile, so twisted with sobbing. Skin that was soft, that he'd touched before and now touched again, accepted. Consenting. All his emotions welling up towards Suvuk, flowing into his mind, answering the proffered gifts. Mine for yours.  
  
The touch of cold human lips on his warm Vulcan skin seemed to wake Suvuk, and he lifted his head to look into Jukka-Pekka's eyes. Suvuk's face, large dark eyes green with crying, wet with tears, and a smile he'd never dared to hope for. Only one logical thing to do now, kiss him, whisper his love with his voice and his mind. All well now, beloved. And nothing left to protest. Just to live, and to enjoy together.  
  
And then amusement, a little laugh, actually. Suvuk threw back his head, laughing, eyes sparkling, all fire rekindled, all the joy he'd never known now coming into its own. He quickly kissed Jukka-Pekka, just an acknoledgement for the world to see. You see, there is still a world out there, and they are as flabberghasted as ever anyone was!  
  
There they stood, all of them, incomprehending, against the wall, having witnessed something so absurd-seeming, there was still only unbelief in their eyes.  
  
Apart from the doctor. The doctor knew already. It was his job.  
  
The doctor laughed out loud, and Jadzia Dax looked at him as if he'd gone just as insane as the Lieutenants.  
  
"Pon Farr!", the doctor spluttered. "The Vulcan mating urge! Of course. You see, Vulcans..."  
  
"I think we heard rumours, Doctor. All of us", Sisko said, amused now as well. "It seems the problem called Suvuk has resolved itself. It was all natural".  
  
"They use these drugs, you know, to...."  
  
"We know", Sisko interrupted. "There's actually a regulation about that. Suvuk tried to quote it to us, to tell us he had a right to the stuff".  
  
Suvuk, one arm still around Jukka-Pekka, looked at his superiors with a twinkle they'd never seen in him. "Doctor? Would you do me the favour and put that stuff into the recycling unit? I promise this won't cause any brownish goo".  
  
They all chuckled, ice broken, all except Major Kira. "Why now? I don't understand a single thing".  
  
"I'll tell you later", Dax said merrily. "Ben, do you think Lieutenant Suvuk still deserves a court-martial, a dishonourable discharge or anything?"  
  
"No. Except perhaps a reprimand for extreme stubbornness, and failing to communicate his needs to the officers concerned. Like, asking for a leave of absence for his - lover? Who is really needed on the station, but..."  
  
"Bond-mate. Husband, if you will. Indeed, I will have to ask for several things". Suvuk interrupted, quite sure of himself now.  
  
"First, I have to ask all of you to accept my apologies for my behaviour the human way, and to accept any amends I can make in the Vulcan custom. Then, leave of absence for my mate, a place somewhere planetside away from every sentient being, a shuttle to go there, and a legal marriage. The precise order of events is irrelevant, though, as long as we get there".  
  
"Planetside? What do you want on Bajor?", Major Kira asked, still understanding nothing.  
  
"It is called marriage seclusion", Äänekoski picked up from Suvuk's mind. "Vulcans in their mating urge go away from everyone else, lest their emotions are broadcast around, what with their strong telepathy not under control in this state. The station's just too populated".  
  
"I even believe", Suvuk took over from him, "that the way you all reacted to me, your wild anger at me, and the way you all pounced on me, your glee at my downfall, was just mirrored from my own confused emotions, from my hatred of what happened to me. Over the last days, I have steadily been losing my control, the control of my telepathy as well. I am sure you are all safer with the two of us gone".  
  
"Definitely", Odo now said. "If this concerns the safety of the station, I will advocate your going away at once".  
  
"Go", Sisko said. "Only, where?"  
  
Whoosh, said the door.  
  
"I want to make a complaint", a new voice spoke up loudly. "There was a Ferengi just outside, and he - well, you can feed me to a firebiter! The no-good Earther and arrogant pointy ears, all one in love and happiness! I said so, and nobody would listen! Oh all you big idiots! I knew!"  
  
All eyes turned to the fat little Bajoran woman just inside the door of the security office. "And who would you be", Sisko asked.  
  
"Andra Adarys", Kira supplied. "Adarys, you wouldn't know of a secluded place somewhere in the temparate regions of Bajor, well away from anyone, sheltered and fit for habitation for a while?"  
  
"What would you need that for?"  
  
"I don't quite understand it myself, but believe me, we need it".  
  
"There was the cave where I was when my brother and I had to vanish. It's in the middle of nowhere. I don't think there's anyone now. But what for?"  
  
"The Lieutenants need to celebrate their marriage the Vulcan way or something. Don't ask me. I don't understand it. I don't think I want to, actually".  
  
"I don't think I want to help them, after what they did to my brother, I think, Nerys".  
  
"This is a matter of station security", Odo said, at his most grave. "It seems that Lieutenant Suvuk's telepathic abilities would otherwise somehow threaten us all. Including your brother".  
  
"Andra Adarys", Suvuk said, " would you accept our apologies...."  
  
"For myself, yes. For my brother, ask him, and if he forgives you, I will. Now, I want this explained".  
  
"I'm afraid there's no time", Suvuk interrupted. "As for now, I am back in control, but this will only last so many hours longer, and then I will be beyond recall. We will need this time to get us to Bajor".  
  
"Okay", Adarys said. "If you promise me one thing".  
  
"Yes", they both answered, perfectly as one.  
  
"If you ever again treat persons as things, and you are told to stop, you will at once, and apologize".  
  
"We promise", they said.  
  
A cave. On Bajor. A waterfall concealing the entrance, but everything dry inside. No threat to Suvuk's sensitive dry-climate lungs, even. All green outside, plants as green and copious as the blood in a battle in the old days, but whispering. Ringing with birdsong. Away from all suffering, all that could be suffer with them.  
  
Suvuk was still in control. He had slept all the way in the shuttle, head on Jukka-Pekka's shoulder, weak with the relief and exhaustion of giving in. A whispering thread of belonging in their minds even as he slept. It would be like that, always, now.  
  
It had even been Andra Laz who had flown them, in the end. In a resigned way, he had even accepted their apologies, as if he had no choice anyway. Jukka-Pekka knew they would have to talk again. But now was not the time to think of that.  
  
Now, they knelt on a ledge, a thick cloth Suvuk had conjured up from somewhere between their kneecaps and the stone. Suvuk laughed again, kissed Jukka-Pekka, and then grew suddenly serious. "We can begin".  
  
And then, for the first time ever, he put his hands to his bond-mate's temples in the position for a mind-meld, mentally guiding him to do the same. Over a grey plane of shapeless nothing, they flew together and merged as one. It had started now. 


	11. Chapter 11

Your mind to my mind, mine to yours; we are one.  
  
Fear; dissolving.  
  
We are one. No separate self. We are I; I see what you see; you know what I know.  
  
We are I.  
  
I am not limited to the synapses of one brain only; I am you; I am we.  
  
I am relieved, exhausted, I am confused and jubilant. I love you, but how can that be if we are one now?  
  
We are one, we are I; this is beyond love. I am all we were when we were still two, not one.  
  
My mind streams outward, streams outward in wide, flowing waves, whirling like the raked lines of a Japanese stone garden around the rocks, the condensed points of my most intense experiences; like the sea of sand around the islands of rock, my reminiscence flows around the islands of my memory.  
  
I am in the stone garden, at the outskirts of ShiKahr. Red Vulcan sands draws its very Terran lines around red Vulcan stones; a bamboo fence the builder of this place brought all the way from Japan frees my view from all mundanity; frees me from the mundane glances of the world outside. I kneel on floor boards that have come the same long way, enclosing the remaining two sides of the garden. In my back, a red Vulcan drystone wall protects me, and a Japanese sliding door has let me in at the hind left corner. Many others kneel silently on the boards; but the builder, a Vulcan scientist who explored the "eastern" Terran tradition at the time of first contact, meant this place for meditation, and my culture demands of me to respect the privacy of the others so I as well can be alone with the stones, the lines in the sand, the bamboo fence and the mountains that rise wild and Vulcan behind it.  
  
The wood under my hands is silvery grey, old and bleached from the heat of many summers. The reddish sunlight gives it a faint copper shimmer, and I feel the day's warmth under my fingers, stored in the boards.  
  
I lift my eyes. Aeons ago, the earth has spat out pink rocks here, and pines and birch trees now have settled around them, wherever they found a free spot. My legs are dangling into the water; I sit at the end of the jetty beside the stairs; and my soul is exalted at the view of the reddening sun in the north nearing now the black trees, and at the view of the red sun-path running towards me, widening, from trees and rocks on the other side, broken by the wave-shadows black in the gold, and at the view of the denser, dark object coming towards me through sun-path and wave-shadows. It is midnight, and midsummer, and we are alone at the summer house belonging to Matti's family. It is Matti, my lover, who climbs from the water now beside me. He is silent. Happy and screeching we ran from the sauna, along the jetty, and jumped into the waters of the lake, but bathing in the sun-path has fundamentally changed our mood. Matti kneels beside the stairs and pulls up the piece of fishing line we've used to hang our bottles of after-sauna beer into the cooling lake. Black and red are shadow and light on his wet body. He takes the lowest two bottles from the line, openes them on a protruding nail, and gives one of them to me. He takes a sip of his and sinks down onto the wooden planks of the jetty beside me, stretching his limbs. Red and black define the contours of his torso. The emotions of the moment overwhelm me, and to lighten the mood I poor some of my beer onto his chest. He doesn't react. I lap the beer from the hollow between his chest and his belly, but he stays motionless. I leave him to his musings, respect his wish to be all alone with me and beside me. For Matti, the rhythm of sauna and cool water is a strict, almost meditative ritual; since I began loving him, I also began treasuring the traditions that my family thinks is just meaningless folklore. We are together, and both deeply alone in a quiet, unforced way. My eyes wander to the horizon, towards the red sun.  
  
Towards the red sun above the mountains my eyes wander before my glance lowers again to the lines of the stone garden. I empty my consciousness for meditation, and yet I cannot reach the utter void, as one strand of my mind binds to the knowledge that I am not alone. I don't mind any teachers or fellow students of mine that might be here; but I cannot forget that Sadek kneels to my right, my best friend, my most important inspiration, and my deepest, most hidden pain. He is quiet as the wide desert, his calm is as deep as the sand. He is safely cradled in tradition which his family honours intensely, and he doesn't mind that there is a kind, warm aspect to his deep calm. My perfect control is the product of hard work that reins in the passions, the freedom, the unorthodox self-knowledge within me, that replaces the unquestioning security of tradition. He doesn't need to hide the gentleness of his character as it stems from a total inner calm. His clear mind has made him a computer specialist; but his hands have the ability to heal injured life. Scruffy grey plants flower in his care, and wounded animals trust him. In his garden there lives a chkariya, a small, wild creature that is deemed a pest by most people. You catch them with traps if they come to your garden and wreak havoc, and carry them back to the wild. This chkariya, a very young female, had broken a leg in a trap in its panic, and the owner of the trap had brought it to Sadek as he didn't want to leave it to certain death. When I see the chkariya for the first time, the small creature is sitting in Sadek's folded hands, quiet and protected. Its left hind leg is encased by a miniature cast, its tiny front paws grab Sadek's two index fingers; and from this safe haven it gazes curiously into the large, strange world. I suppress the impulse to let it smell my finger and to touch its fur; I cannot afford such gentleness. I greet Sadek and follow him inside. He offers me a fruit juice, and we sit down at his workstation to continue with our project on which we have been working for a long time. His calm and friendly nature never saw a reason to fight the affection between us; it was he who wooed for my freindship, it was he who called my T'hy'la first, while I fought my feelings for him with all the means of Vulcan mental dscipline, never quite successfully. Our work was exceptional, and it would have been illogical to curb down our connection because of some forbidden emotions on my part that I was, all in all, controlling very well. So I sit down beside him, and our endeavor at a common goal is quite sufficient to let me forget about my love for him. Few words we need for our work, and we are making progress with our data while the chkariya sits on Sadek's shoulder, holding on with its front paws, and its long, bushy tail hangs down my friend's back.  
  
Through the half-open door of Sadek's room I hear movement in the house, and when I turn around, T'Daan enters, Sadek's younger sister. She studies education at the academy, and she is far more than a glorified babysitter; she is the kind of person Terrans that want to know what makes Vulcans Vulcan should talk to. But no offworlder ever gets to speak to a traditionalist of her ilk; her subject is the only one at the academy open only to Vulcans. As usual, some older children from the neighbourhood are following her around. Their sehlats trot after them; and the other animals are making the chkariya nervous. It tries to hide in Sadek's hands, and falls. Sadek catches it and turns to his sister.  
  
"Take your sehlats out into the gardens", she orders the children. "I request that we may watch your work."  
  
"Of course, you are welcome", her brother answers.  
  
This isn't the first time; T'Daan's followers are interested and disciplined. T'Daans sits on the table at the wall behind us, and the children follow suit.  
  
At first, Sadek had rebuked her; it was illogical, he said, to sit on a table when there were enough chairs in the house. If you could see the screen from the higher table, T'Daan had replied, it was illogical to sit on chairs and observe the backs of the heads in front of the screen, and her brother had agreed.  
  
The chkariya is already accustomed to T'Daan; so Sadek stands for a moment to give it to her. Silently, the children watch the small animal. Sadek explains in simple terms the progress of our work, and I watch brother and sister. The tight traditions they are living in gives them the neccesssary calm for their respective tasks, and leaves no question open about their future. Of course they had been bonded as children; T'Daan's future husband is a geologist aboard a mining vessel plying th easteroid belt, and Sadek's fiancée is a musician from T'LingShahr. This is never spoken about; the future is safe and can take care of itself. I, in contrast, am given the freedom of individual choice as I wasn't betrothed as a child, and so I will have to see to my future myself; but there is no hurry. The correct criteria for my choice will present themselves when the time comes; but now my misguided emotion attaches itself to Sadek, and even if he will never be all mine in the way my daily rejected wishes demand, his part in my future is safe. We are colleagues, and we are friends; our lives will run side by side.  
  
When Sadek's and T'Daan's parents return in the evening, our quiet idyll breaks up; T'Daan retreats with her followers, and I as well make my polite farewells out of respect for the other family's privacy. I step from the door into the unpaved streets between high adobe walls that are typical for ShiKahr's academic residential neighbourhoods, and walk home; from the safe shell of their traditions I return to my own, individual freedom.  
  
It was my love of freedom that brought us into space. Matti was content to work in his father's workshop after we'd finished school and learn the traditional craft of a woodcarver. I knew that I was going to be a technician like my parents, but first I wanted to sate my curiosity for the wide world and for the worlds beyond before tying myself down to one place. I was mature enought to tie myself to one person; I kept insisting on that when Matti sulked and complained he wasn't enough for me. I took him in my arms and again and again reassured him I loved him; I never doubted our future together. Live was to short, he retorted, to spend it apart, him in Finland and me somewhere near the Neutral Zone. Life is is long, I contradict him; we can marry as soon as we reach the legal age, but I have to see the universe out there before I can decide to stay in Kemi forever. But there is no doubt about that decision, nor about my decision for him, forever. Life is short, Matti insists; and again I take him in my arms, implore him to come with me into space. Kemi's enough for him, Kemi and the summer house at the lake; he's going to stay the same person wherever he goes, so he can just as well stay here, where his home is and where he is rooted in culture and tradition.  
  
Many times we repeat this discussion, and by the bye, our plans for the future take shape. We are going to finish school first, and then we're going to marry and join Starfleet as non-commissioned personnel, just for a few years, and then we're going to live in Kemi like our parents.  
  
So we just get married without much fuss the summer after we finished school; in September, we move to Helsinki. We live for half a year in furnished room in an ancient house on the hill they call Linnulaulu; we walk every day to the southern harbour to take the hovercraft that goes to Suomenlinna. The simple, grey stone barracks of the old fortress now serve as the regional Starfleet training center for northern Europe. They've accepted us. Our compromise, in the end, had been both or none; but as Starfleet seems to have a use for the manual skills of my lover, who handles energy couplers just as competently as his father's woodcarving knives, Matti is bound to his promise; and as the months go by, his interest becomes deeper and more sincere.  
  
In winter, when our course ends, we are assigned to the U.S.S. Roddenberry and simply beamed aboard, without any undue ceremony, detour to San Francisco or anything. We have no difficulty in adapting to life aboard, although we're the only Finns and stand out by being so young and yet married already. Our colleagues just accept us as we are. Matti, finally, enjoys being in space just as much as I do; and our future stretches out in front of us, safe and promising. We sometimes think about suitable spots in Kemi to build our house; but sometimes we consider staying one more year with Starfleet as an alternative.  
  
In this peaceful timelessness, I am hit by the worst shock of my entire life, by the ultimate loss. While all this happens I can't think, can't feel, just act to save me and others. But on the long, long voyage back in our shuttle with the few other survivors, I finally realise that I am all alone now, expelled from our safe future together into a time scale that begins again from the beginning with the end of the Roddenberry, that is all open again; and suddenly it is my own responsibilty, and the only certainty I still have is that nothing of what I thought was certain is ever going to happen.  
  
And my last look back at the dead body of my lover remains burned into my mind forever; the pain feels so fresh every time I think of that moment. Matti, on the engine room floor, his dark brown hair soaked with blood, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, his head tilted to a cruel curve, his neck broken, his hands burned. His gentle hazel eyes extinct and glassy. A last look back before I run for my life, before the blue fire of the exploding dilithium chamber takes it all into itself. I see this moment again and again, and then the flood of bursting blue energy. I didn't see him die, I just saw him dead. One moment he was working feverishly beside me, the next he's dead on the floor and I run. Every time I see this moment I am forced to feel the same unbearable mixture of love and pain I didn't feel when it actually happened. I know I have lost him forever, and my life is over.  
  
I know I have lost him forever, and my life is over, when he doesn't accept my amends, when he just turns away from me and leaves me to my own, worthless life.  
  
It began on a terrible day that was too hot even for Vulcans. While we are walking over the desiccated courtyard between the cybernetics department and the cafeteria, I notice for the first time Sadek's body, his quiet grace, the contours of his limbs, the calm strength of his neck. I have always loved his inner nature; now suddenly I physically desire him, and I am gripped by anguish, as I know what this means. I make excuses, claim that the extraordinary heat is adversely affecting my constitution; as soon as I'm out of his view, I start running. I run through the shadowless streets; people are too discipline to stare at my unbecoming behaviour; or perhaps just too lethargic in the heat.  
  
My mothers sits at home writing an article for some improtant scientific publicaiton off-world; she knows at once what is going on, makes me drink some herbal concoction and calls my father, who comes home at immediately. "You need a bride, at once; you're early", he tells me. I can only think of Sadek; I can't get my mind far away from him. "T'Daan", I say; it is only half a year after I said the appropriate phrases at the death of her fiancé, whose ship had collided with an asteroid. "A logical choice", my father says; he sits at his comm terminal and calls up his sister T'Pel who agrees to act as go-between between T'Daans traditionalist family and ours. Aunt T'Pel comes, has a look at me, and hurries off; my grandmother comes to see us and replicates some especially special herbal tea to calm me down. While she and my mother discuss all the potential alternatives, Aunt T'Pel returns with T'Daan's acceptance. The marriage date is set for the next day, with a view to my state.  
  
That night I spend in unspeakable dreams. Sadeks nude body, well-known to me from the countless times we've bathed in the hot springs together, appears to me again and again; and yet the meaning has subtly shifted. My instinct tells me exactly what to do. I grab for him, but he dives into the opaque, muddy-red water; I can't reach him. The vision dissolves, and again I see him about to come into the water; and each time I desire him more urgently, but my need is left unsatisfied.  
  
The next day, my wedding day, the day of my eternal shame, is just as hot as the one before. Our family makes up a huge convoy as they drive me towards the place intended for the ritual; my parents, my grandmother, my aunt, all my brothers and sisters and their spouses. They drive me before them, and I allow myself to be driven.  
  
The bride's family expect us; it is their traditional place. T'Daan in the middle, and beside her, Sadek. I try not to look at him, and yet I can see nobody except him, wherever I turn my eyes. The challenge is spoken, but nobody takes it; the ceremony progresses to the bonding. I step towards T'Daan; between us stands an experienced healer from her family to help us with the bond.  
  
In this moment, I break out. Sadek is standing just a yard away from his sister, and the knowledge that it's him I want, not her, burns in me, and then it burns through all my control, and I can't rein in my desires any longer, and I lunge for him, I grab him, take him in my arms, throw him down. Instinctively, my hands go for his temples; his mind can muster no resistance against the onslaught of my feelings in pon farr. In one moment's outbreak, I let him know everything, everything I ever felt for him, everything I dreamed of and suppressed all these years. His mind is defeated by my passion, and his body can't defend itself, doesn't want to; as I rape his body, my mind ravishes his personality. I don't remember any special details; we enmesh with each other, body and mind, in the madness that now, through the forced bond, has gripped him as well.  
  
The others know there's nothing they could do to help; parting us now would kill us both. They erect a screen made from a metallic fabric purported to dampen telepathy, and everyone leaves apart from my mother, my grandmother, Sadek's mother and the healer. They close their well-trained, disciplined minds against our madness and wait until things quieten down behind the screen. We sink down together, utterly exhausted, then lift our heads again and stare at each other in mutual terror; most terrible the knowledge of mutuality, for the bond holds. Before we can say a word, or take any conscious decion of our own, the healer steps around the fabric screen; she melds her clear mind to our dazed ones and quickly and precisely severs our new bond. In icy silence my mother and grandmother take me home.  
  
When I meet Sadek the next time, weeks later, at the academy, I have accepted that I am going to die in seven years; and I have accepted not to blame myself for what has happened. I was in pon farr; and I have a wild, uncontrollable nature that should and shall not survive. I will contibute whatever I have to give, and then I will die. Another, the Vulcan way might be punish with nothing but its feared deathly silence, but one from so prominent a family as mine it expects to go all the way as was done in the old days.  
  
I meet Sadek in a corridor of the cybernetics department. His arms are loaded with data foils and data cubes; he's going away, and I know he's accepted a job in T'LingShahr, and he's going to marry there, soon, too. It is illogical to creep past him as if I were ashamed. No Vulcan will ever fully comprehend the human convention of apology. It is illogical to offer the useless emotions of rue and regret for some damage or misdemeanour, especially as this expects the utterance of another, mostly unsincere, emotion called forgiveness. This helps nobody and doesn't undo the damage. We Vulcans offer amends, and accept the punishment meted out by the other party, whatever that may be. The victim will doubtlessly ask an appropriate price, like repayment of material damages, or meditation against some character flaw.  
  
I look Sadek straight into the eyes and say to him, "I have done you grave damage be my uncontrolled behaviour; tell me what I can do to amend my erroneous ways." I actually expect him to send me into deep meditation at the Gol monasteries for the rest of my worthless life; but he only looks at me, with barely contained pity, finally says, "There's nothing you could do", turns away and walks off.  
  
This rejection, this denial of all possibilities to amend for what I have done according to Vulcan tradition forced me to begin again. I decided to fight for my life, to leave Vulcan, even, and to combat the tradition that sentenced me to a self-imposed, horrible death with all my personal, individual energy. If Sadek had asked amends of me, I would have been bound to him by it for the rest of my life; but by his rejection, I was suddenly, horribly free and responsible for myself. He hadn't sentenced but rejected me; and so I sentenced myself to life, to a life in cold and loneliness forever. I have lost him, and my life is over; all that remains is the self-discipline that painfully keeps the cold at bay.  
  
But loneliness and pain are over now; my life begins again, and I am alone no longer. I will never forget what happened; I will always remember him whom I lost; but now I have found what I have always been looking for; love and contentment are mine again, for we are one in mind and in body.  
  
A few days later, some lost deperadoes, a splinter group of former Khon Ma terrorists, came through the dense jungle towards the cave at the falls; but when their leader emerged from the foliage, she was met by the most unexpected view.  
  
In the falls hiding the cave, there cavorted an unclad pair of lovers, so intent on each other and their joy in each other they didn't even notice the approaching weary fighters. Over the distance of the pool that separated the woods from the cave, and through the spray of the falls themselves, the terrorist leader couldn't discern their species or even their gender; but this beautiful and peaceful scene at a place that had belonged to the guerilla, this place where attacks had been planned and the wounded had been cared for, suddenly opened her darkened mind, and she realised that the times had gone right past her.  
  
Without a word she turned around and led her group back into the woods. A few days later, she reached the next improvised, still half-destoyed city, where they all joined the majority to do some contructive work for all of Bajor for a change. 


End file.
